Ripples in the Stream
by Vyrexuviel
Summary: Something terrible has happened. Eden Prime was a disaster, but from the ashes of a hero's pyre rises a new hope. A very different warrior rises to take the place of a fallen legend. Time to quit dreaming. Time to Awaken. ME Universe, Out-of-universe character(s) with D&D roots; some Shadowrun influence. (Will update erratically, please be patient!)
1. Chapter 1: Waking from the Dream

**Ripples in the Stream**

A D&amp;D / Shadowrun / Mass Effect crossover by Vyrexuviel

Disclaimer: The author of this story does not, in any way, derive any profit from the story. D&amp;D, Shadowrun and Mass Effect are the property of their respective copyright holders. Jorukaia and other unfamiliar characters in this story, however, are mine.

* * *

Shepard slid her gun into its holster, the magnetic seals clamping in place. The Geth had ravaged Eden Prime, destroyed dozens of square kilometers of farmland in a series of bizarre hit-and-run raids, rendering entire farms little more than scorched bare pieces of rock. She shook her head a little, her chin-length bob swaying a bit as she turned away from the artifact.

All for this piece of ancient Prothean junk. All those lives lost, all those hopes and dreams destroyed, all that death and misery. All for this thing. With a soft sigh, she opened a channel. "Normandy, the beacon is secure. Request immediate evac."

Behind her, Ash was looking curiously at the massive block of metal, now glowing a bit along its long, central stalk. She was describing how it was found and unearthed to Kaidan. "Actual working Prothean technology doesn't grow on trees, you know. But it wasn't doing anything like -that- when they dug it up, though. Something must have activated it."

Kaidan was frowning a bit, "We'd better be careful, Ms Williams. We don't know what this thing was designed to do."

He turned to Shepard as his commander finished detailing the location. Kaidan murmured softly to her, but her eyes snapped to the side as the beacon emitted some kind of flare. Ash was on her feet, but being slowly dragged towards it, unable to pull away. Shepard did what she did best. What the Council was considering her Spectre candidacy for. She made an instant decision and acted without hesitation.

She rushed forward, grasped Ash around the waist and hurled her away from the beacon. The white-armored woman landed heavily, and knocked Kaidan down when he tried to catch her. But both marines could clearly see that Shepard was in trouble. She was struggling mightily, like a fly caught in a web, but unable to force herself away from the Beacon.

Even as Ashley called out her name, she felt herself lifted into the air. She could vaguely hear Kaidan and Ashley arguing, but it was soft, muted. Compared to the vision before her, nothing else mattered.

Pain.  
Death.  
Destruction.  
Damnation.

Armageddon unrolled before her eyes, in all its vast, horrific splendor. Eyes an unusually pronounced gold rolled madly in their sockets, seeking an escape that did not exist.

"Don't touch her, it's too dangerous!"

Flesh, dripping.  
Metal, cooling.  
The two as one, combined without seam.  
The birth of a monster.  
The birth of a god.

Her eyes weren't moving now, staring unseeing into an unknowable abyss of distance and time. She hung in midair, like the plaything of a wraith, her body growing ever more limp as image after image, horror after horror assaulted her senses.

Even her mind, trained and hardened to the horrors of war, couldn't cope.

With a strangely muted thud, the beacon exploded, and Shepard fell in a boneless heap. Ash and Kaidan were there instantly, but though her eyes were open, they saw nothing. One iris was a thin sliver of gold around a pupil gone huge, the other seemed to cover her pupil entirely, as if in her last extremity she was trying to both shut out what she was seeing, sensing, and at the same time memorize every detail. She shivered and twitched slightly, but calling her name and shaking her did nothing. Her eyes remained open, and that horrible fixed, uneven stare unnerved both marines.

"Better call the Normandy, Ms Williams. Tell Chakwas to expect incoming wounded."

* * *

Chakwas gave a long sigh, and shook her head at Anderson. "I've done everything I can do, Captain. Wherever she's gone, she's beyond my help."

Anderson didn't let it show, but the words tore something, deep in his heart. He had served with Shepard a time or two before, that's why he forwarded her dossier to Udina for this opportunity. He'd known her to take some stupid risks in her time, seemingly indifferent to her own survival and risking her life for impossible long-shots, but somehow she always turned back just before the point of no return. Or pursued her chance, and, against all good sense, caught the bastard.

But this time, there'd be no victory snatched from the jaws of defeat. No beacon, no Spectre. And now, no Spectre candidate either. The whole damned bureaucratic mess to do over, with the added disadvantage that it had been the humans who had pushed the schedule as far as it could go. The council would hold them back for sure, this time, keep them bottled up for another twenty years, maybe longer.

"What was the cause of death, Doctor?"

Chakwas paused, pursing her lips. "Severe neural trauma and systemic shutdown. It almost looks like a case of induced hibernation, but I can't get any sign of any neural response at all, and her cellular tissues are already beginning to break down."

Anderson gave a quiet nod. He shook his head a bit, one fist clenched against his thigh. "Well.. we'll stay in orbit another day or two, allow the family of Private Jenkins to bury their son. At least he came home to die. We'll... have to decide what to do with Shepard."

Chakwas stiffened her back slightly, "I insist on performing an autopsy, Captain. I read some very unusual latencies in her brain, something intense was going on before the end."

"You'll get your chance, Doctor. But you've been at this non-stop for almost 16 hours, with nearly a full shift before that. Get some rest."

"Captain-" Anderson's look cut her off, and she gave a frustrated shake of the head, "Alright, Captain. But I don't have to like it."

"It's never easy, Chakwas. It's hardest with someone you've known a long time."

She gave a nod, sighing and packing up. The sheeted corpse was gently transferred from the bio-bed to the steel drawer of the tiny morgue, the door to the tiny freezer unit shutting with the flat, unimportant sound. Then, a moment or two after her assistant had left, she reached down to an out-of-the-way medical cabinet, and removed both a bottle and a tumbler.

After the first two shots, she didn't bother with the glass.

* * *

The garrison forces had been utterly devastated, only Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams of the 212 left out of nearly two hundred men and women. Their bombed-out barracks building was still shedding pieces, having been struck with a single orbit-to-surface strike that left surprisingly little in the way of collateral damage. Most had still been inside. Ashley's unit was being disbanded, and as the sole survivor, she was ordered to report to the nearest Alliance unit and join up. As that happened to be the marine detachment aboard the Normandy, Anderson welcomed her formally to his crew. That would have been part of Shepard's duties, but...

She'd packed up her meager belongings, those that hadn't been wiped with the rest of the garrison, and boarded formally within the hour. She still couldn't bring herself to glance into the sickbay.

The Normandy broke orbit an hour later.

* * *

Chakwas hadn't had a very good night. Between the alcohol and her grief, she got very little sleep, nodding off, only to wake a half hour later, feeling fatigued and groggy. The cycle repeated several times before she finally gave it up as a bad job. She slept in the small storage space aft of the sickbay itself, a small fold-down cot providing her bedding requirements, though there were a few extra camp-cots for emergency use. After nearly four decades of such sleeping arrangements, she'd gotten used to them, even claiming that they helped keep her back straight.

Bare feet made very little noise as she slipped quietly into the sickbay. Her eyes strayed to the bio-bed closest to her doctor's station. The one where Shepard had died. She didn't even bother suppressing the soft sigh of regret the thought provoked. She was too tired to care. She shivered a little. It had seemed so hopeful in the beginning. Just a transient seizure caused by neural overload. But the deterioration had spread with alarming rapidity, and Shepard...

She sighed again. This wasn't the time for that sort of reminiscence. Not with Shepard's body still stored-

She shivered again, staring at the open freezer door.

'What. The. Hell?' She moved over to it, glanced inside. The sheet they had covered Shepard's body with was wasn't there, and neither was the corpse.

She quietly slid the drawer inside and fingered the door. There were scratches on it, new ones. Her eyes narrowed. 'If this was someone's idea of a prank...'

A soft sound caught her attention. It was so low she couldn't really put words to it, but something was definitely going on. She quietly shut the door, wincing a little as the metal clinked softly together, and slipped quietly to the door. There was no help for it, the thing was going to make a considerable noise when it opened, so she grabbed a flashlight from the nearby emergency locker and tapped the door-key.

The usual hiss and clank of the door retracting was followed by the Doc stepping out and flicking the light around. The mess was dark, the dim red safety lights giving a lurid gleam to everything. The galley, if you wanted to call it that, was across the mess hall from the sickbay entrance, nestled into the corner where Kaidan spent most of his time. She had to admit, man was a wizard with spices and herbs, and the entire crew was glad of his service. He somehow made even military-issue MREs palatable.

And the noise was coming from over there.

She snapped the light to shine over at the sound of soft scraping and rustling, trying to make out what she was seeing. A length of something black and dimly-gleaming, and a- She managed to keep the light steady, even as her throat suddenly went dry. The figure was staring back at her. Eyes that glowed with the same deep red as the lighting transfixed her with an unholy stare. Carefully, the figure stood, towering over her. The long, sleek curve she suddenly realized was a _tail_, arching and swaying gracefully behind the lithe figure.

She finally managed to wrench her gaze away from the... the person's eyes, and realized that the thing in her hand was an MRE package. Torn open roughly, its contents having been almost entirely scooped out. A bit of the creamed chicken was still clinging to the 'woman, that's definitely a woman' person's chin, and a long tongue, black in the dim light, licked out to gather it in. She tilted her head, the light rippling in bloody bands off the smooth length of her elegantly-curved horns. She had only a small sheet draped about her lean body, wrapped about her shoulders and dangling down barely past her hips. Her arms gleamed dully in the light, shifting to rapidly scratch out the last little bit of food and wolf it down with almost terrifying eagerness. She gave a low sound, those baleful red eyes closing momentarily, then turning back to the stunned Chakwas.

By this point, the doc was barely managing to keep the light steady, her eyes wide. The horned, tailed, and, yes, she could see the claws on the tips of those long fingers, woman turned back to her, some form of expression on her face. At first, Karen was unable to make out what she said, but when the figure repeated herself, gesturing to the MRE, she understood the hoarse, croaking voice.

"Please... I-Is there more...?"

* * *

AN: DUN DUN DUNNNN!

Yah, this is what's been keeping me from doing more of Phoenix of late. I've been bitten by a particularly savage and ruthless plotbunny, and I'm going to need help to get it removed. ^^ Anyone interested in assisting, pleasepleaseplease gimme a PM-poke! I've got some very interesting backstory for this one, and yes, I'll be doing a lot of exposition in the next chapter (whenever I can find time to write it), so keep your shirt on, and don't hold your breath (to hard). ^.~

No, I haven't given up on Phoenix, but I've hit a major roadblock, and doing this one for a while might help me get past it. The next bit to come is a leetle thing you might have heard of, some people refer to it as the LotSB. ^^ I've got a bit of it written, but I'm finding it hard to get into the head of a certain character, and I don't want to overdo certain bits with it, while maintaining the sense of... well, if you really need to know, gimme a PM, and we can discuss. ^^ I'm currently without a beta for Phoenix, so if you're interested, TELL MEE!

Life tends to be somewhat draining, and my periods of inspiration tend to come and go. I'll write whenever I get the spark, but no promises when I'll be able to post something worth it. Ta for now, and I hope to have more of this fic up soon!


	2. Chapter 2: Shedding the Skin

**Ripples in the Stream**

A D&amp;D / Shadowrun / Mass Effect crossover by Vyrexuviel

Disclaimer: The author of this story does not, in any way, derive any profit from the story. D&amp;D, Shadowrun and Mass Effect are the property of their respective copyright holders. Jorukaia and other unfamiliar characters in this story, however, are mine.

* * *

"Do you believe her?" Chakwas lent back against the edge of one of the sickbay beds. After the harrowing last couple of hours, she felt the need of additional support.

Anderson slumped against the wall, his face weary and tired from all the collective shit that's been happening lately. "After these few days, Karin, I don't know what I believe anymore. Nihlus, Shepard, the Beacon, Saren and the Geth. It's just too much."

She nodded faintly, turned, and opened one of the medicine cabinets. She removed a square glass bottle and a pair of tumblers from behind a stack of surgical gauze pads. The doctor poured three fingers into one and handed it to the Captain. "Doctor's orders, David." She gave him an empathetic look as she poured herself a shot of the cerulean-blue liquid. "If I hadn't seen the inside of that drawer, I wouldn't even be entertaining the notions going through my head now, but... She can't really be telling the truth, can she?"

Anderson took the tumbler with a grateful look on his face. He swirled whatever it was inside a couple of times, pensive, before downing it in one gulp, grimacing slightly at the burn. "I don't know, Doc... That thing out there, it can't be the Shepard we know. It's too...different, too...it's too much." The captain paused, staring at the now empty tumbler in his hands, the filaments of alcohol slowly settling back on the bottom. "But she knew things...I don't know whether or not that makes her Shepard, back from the dead, or whatever nonsense we're supposed to believe, but she knows more than she should."

She topped up his glass again, setting the bottle where the captain could reach it, and sipped her own drink. "What do you mean, David? I mean, sure, I saw the scratches, showed them to you, but that doesn't mean... It _can't_ mean she's come _back_..."

He glanced at the bottle, considering for all of five seconds the complications it could cause, before throwing all that out the window. He quickly filled his tumbler, downed it, and filled it again, setting the bottle near the doctor this time. "I don't like this, Karin. I'm inclined to believe that...creature knew Shepard, or somehow got in contact with her. Either that, or both Shepard and I slacked on our security multiple times, and that's not something I'm willing to accept." He paused, thinking for a few moments and enjoying the buzz in his mind, before he turned to the Doctor once more. "Are you sure she was dead, Chakwas?"

Karin hesitated, swirling her liquor a little and giving him a quiet look, "I'll never be 100% certain, but in my medical judgment, yes. She was dead. No detectable neural activity, heart stopped, respiration stopped. If that's not the textbook definition of 'dead' I don't know what is." She gave a soft sigh, "But without an autopsy, we'll never know if she was just... I don't know, hibernating? Undergoing some sort of metamorphosis into... Whatever it is we have down there. How'd you finally restrain her, by the by? I doubt that that cord lasted very long, those claws were sharp enough to leave scratches in steel."

Anderson waved his free hand almost dismissively, "Chain from engineering. Had them weld a couple of bars around her wrists. It was the fastest, strongest thing we could come up with." He sipped the rest of the beverage, and set the tumbler next to the bottle, unwilling to drink any more. He sighed, and rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose with his right hand, the left holding on to the countertop.

"This is out of my league, Doc. I have an alien creature that first claims to be Shepard back from the dead, then some sort of alien, then an outright denizen of Hell inside the most advanced ship the Alliance has, and this same creature seems to know way more about our government and military than I'm comfortable with. My superiors need to know about this, make a decision..." He snorted, shaking his head slowly, "I'm sure that's gonna go well. Tell them we have a gigantic security breach in the ship after one of the most spectacular failures of humanity in the last twenty years."

Chakwas tossed off the rest of the throat-destroying drink in one go, filled it, and took another swallow, before setting it down and patting his hand, "You did everything you could in the circumstances, David." A faint smile touched her lips, "I'd recommend some sleep. Though I suppose the liquor probably won't help with that." She glanced over as the Sickbay doors open, subtly slipping the bottle into a drawer as Ashley steps in. "Something wrong, Sergeant?"

Ashley hesitated, then took a couple mincing steps into the room. "Yeah, you could say that doc."

"Sergeant Williams," Anderson nodded.

She straightened to attention, even throwing a salute. Then winced a bit and slouches again, "Sorry sir. Had an accident down in the cargo hold."

"Oh, what sort?" Chakwas was all business.

"Well..." The marine looked rather embarrassed, glancing over to the Captain.

He gave a slight grin and a nod, "I'll show myself out. Good to talk with you, Karin."

The doc nodded gently to him, then turned back to Ms Williams, "Now, what seems to be the problem?"

* * *

She thought she had seen everything, in her long, winding life, from the darkest depths of depravity to the highest hallowed halls. She'd seen the march of nations on the warpath, and steered wide of them. She'd seen individual triumphs and failures every bit as impressive as those of entire civilizations. She thought she had seen it all. Then the Far Realm had opened, and spat her out into that strange other world. She had found, over the six decades that she had spent in that new world, for all it's glittering spires, had people just the same as the world she left, with the same lofty ideals and hidden vices. Only the technology had changed, human nature was still human nature.

Then she came to this place, torn from the ritual circle by some power from the world she left, ripped free of the confines of reality, and flung farther than she had been the first time. Out, far out, beyond the walls of existence, to view time itself as a rippling ribbon of light 'beneath' her, to hear that voice that spoke and yet did not speak, and be told what she must do. Three times she watched the timestream, and each time it was both different and the same. The last time it replayed, she fell into it, was hurled into it, loosing her grip on her weapon as she fell, being torn and compressed and rent asunder, feeling her very mind assaulted by a power she could not fathom, let alone fight.

She had dreamed then, dreamed she was someone else, somewhere else, somewhen else. Done things, both heroic and savage, those were clearer somehow. Then the last. A searing pain that ripped through her head like a rusty saw, and she had awoken inside that scorched steel box. Hunger had savaged her, and she had followed the scent of food to its source, almost mindless with her need to consume. Now, however, she had regained her control. 12 hours from her reawakening to her true nature, her true self, had seen the Normandy to the Citadel, and Anderson's marines had escorted her, still chained, into C-Sec, as the Normandy had no brig to contain her.

An Asari lazily raised her head as the sound of steps got louder. From behind her counter, the admittedly plain-looking alien felt her eyes widen a bit at the sight of the incursion, the patterns running around her forehead making her look very much like a startled, blue raccoon. Laziness momentarily forgotten, she lent forward, both her elbows resting on her counter as she tried to find the highest ranking member in the group. Failing that, she mentally shrugged.

"State your business?" she asked, her droning voice probably fooling nobody as to whether that was something she spoke a lot or not.

Anderson stepped forward, giving the tall, forbidding-looking one a glance as he stepped past her. She was certainly the impressive sort, over two meters tall, with long, elegantly-curved horns sweeping back from her temples, ebony skin, a long, sinuous tail that swayed slowly behind her, and eerie red-in-black eyes that seem to burn with an inner fire. "Temporary prisoner transfer. My ship doesn't have proper brig facilities, the Alliance is sending a ship to pick her up."

The alien almost visibly deflated, all the rather fleeting thoughts of whether this situation would be interesting or not thrown out of her head as the human spoke. 'Still', she eyed the...whatever she was up and down once, not being remotely familiar with that species, 'At least that's a story to tell the others.'

She nodded at the Captain, and pulled open a drawer. Rummaging through it for a few seconds, she retrieved something that somewhat resembled a deactivated omni-tool, albeit an older model. She fit it on, and activated it with a bit of fumbling, the familiar yellow-orange field flashing around her arm and hand.

Twitching her fingers through a long combination of commands, she finally looked up again. "State your Name, ID Code and Species, please."

Anderson glanced at the woman, who took a step forward, suddenly looming over the asari's desk. "Jorukaiazhanivahkyss. I don't have an ID code." Her lips quirked upwards slightly at some inner amusement. "I suppose you could shorten that to Jorukaia, if you wish. Put my species down as 'Darastrix'." Her voice was lower than the asari might have expected, rich and resonant, with a deep undertone that was both pleasant and subtly disturbing at the same time.

The asari automatically started to type in the glowing field, trained motions too ingrained in her mind to be overcome by the being's unusual voice. She snuck glances up at the..'Darastrix?', her mind helpfully supplied, before glancing back down again. "...Right. Spell both your full name and your species. The system doesn't recognize the words."

The large woman's lips parted ever so slightly, a strange shape to her mouth that suddenly resolved itself into concealed fangs in the asari's mind. She slowly spelled both the name and the species, using Alliance-standard English letters. She didn't seem surprised in the least that the computer was having trouble recognizing the words, she even seemed amused by it.

The officer nodded, and put everything in the system correctly. She looked back at Joru, one of her brows going up similarly to human eyebrows, and lent slightly forward again. "Do you have a gender?"

The woman gave a faint snicker, and merely answered, "Yes."

The asari looked mildly annoyed, mildly amused at that. "More specific, then - what is your gender?"

"I'm female, if that's what you're asking." The tall alien gave a slow wink and a grin. Yes, those were very definitely _fangs_ in her mouth, at least three times as long as the rest of the teeth, and probably the source of the slight accent she has.

She blinked twice at the sight of the fangs. 'Honestly,' she thought, 'who still has fangs?'. "Yes," she coughed lightly, and went back to typing. "Quite." The Asari made a sweeping motion with her hand, and started to type again. "Chirality?"

The tall, exotic woman shrugged slightly, "I can eat human food, so I'm most likely levo, if I understand that question correctly."

"Uh huh. Date of birth?"

Joru's eyes went abstracted, flickering ever so slightly, as if focused on something that wasn't there for a moment, "I'm one hundred ninety five thousand two hundred forty seven T-CUT days old, and the current gal-standard date is Day 112, Year 2461. Call the birth date Day 307, Year 1971." She gave a slight grin, "Though, I prefer thinking in Terran Coordinated Universal Time. Five hundred thirty four isn't that old."

The asari looked back up at the figure once hearing her age, slight shock on her face. She might not have been the most culturally inclined of her kind, but she knew the Asari and Krogan were the only modern species capable of living for such a long time, though Krogan mostly found ways to kill themselves far earlier than that age. Even more, she was unaware of what a Darastrix might be, but the one in front of her looked and felt young.

"Could you repeat your age for me?" She had to be sure.

The tall woman shrugged slightly, the chain wrapped around her forearms clinking a bit, and gave a faint grin, "Four hundred ninety galactic standard years." She gave a slightly amused grin at the asari's reaction, "I'm not about to keel over dead, if that's what you're waiting for."

"Huh. And the charge?"

Anderson stepped closer at the asari's last question, "She's being held for questioning about being found in a restricted, military area without proper authorization. That's all you need to know at this time."

The Asari looked slightly disappointed for a second, her professional visage back in place. She nodded to the human, and tapped a few keys on her omni-tool. "Requesting two armed officers for prisoner transfer on the reception."

Anderson gave a slight nod, the woman giving a slight grin at the mention of the officers. Her brow rose slightly as the pair of turians arrived and gave them a quick, appraising glance. A slight smile touched her lips, "All for little old me? I'm flattered."

The Asari shook her head, her face taking distinctively amused features. "Standard procedure, I'm afraid. Officers, the...", she stopped, glancing at the formal attire of the human and reading his rank with some difficulty. She didn't want to be outed as someone lacking in xeno-culture. "...Captain will explain the situation."

Anderson nods and gave specifics while Joru lent nonchalantly against the countertop, a faint grin touching her lips. The base of the right horn was slightly creased, as if it was cut or gouged at one point, as if someone had tried to sever it. She rested her elbow on the countertop, tail swishing a little as the glanced down at the asari. This close, the faint, slightly spicy scent of her was noticeable, though not unpleasant. "Only two guards. Well, I guess it's a start." Her voice was low, confidential, and her red eyes glanced towards the blue-skinned alien, appraising, and subtly disturbing. From this range, the faint scales on her face are clearly visible, as are the ones on her hands. Faint and small, they looked more like snakeskin than the heavier scales of most reptiles.

The blue-skinned alien shivered a bit, having never personally felt the gaze of a predator, but instinctively knowing to be wary. She looked directly on the eyes of the lizard-like female, before lowering her own to her omni-tool. She quickly flicked out another long sequence, and an answering beep came from both Turian Guards' own tools. She nodded at the guards, "Call it a hunch."

The taller alien gave the asari a quick little predatory grin, "See you later, maybe..." She stepped forward, holding out her manacled hands. "Let's go, boys, time's wasting. Show me to my suite." She grinned down at the dour-faced turian.

The slightly taller Turian took a few steps forward, face-plates opened in a mixture of a grimace and a sneer. Wearing the standard black-and-blue patterned Citadel Security armor, the guard would have cut an impressive figure, if not for the even-taller, draconic-looking prisoner. With eyes narrowed, he turned to the other turian to motion towards the doors leading to the prison cells.

"You will remain quiet while in C-Sec custody," droned the Turian. "Anything and everything you say will be recorded and may be used against you."

Joru gave a soft smirk, her two-meter tail swaying slowly behind her, curling and arching almost hypnotically as she followed the first turian, listening to the other one drone behind her. Her eyes kept flicking left and right, taking in the corridor walls and ceiling as well as the floor. At one point, she pivoted, moving with easy grace on the balls of her bare feet, bared claws lightly clicking on the hard floor, making a complete circle as she checked out a light fixture, flashed the droning turian an grin, and came back around to the front. Her attitude was one of mild amusement, not at all that of a prisoner being marched to the detention area.

The droning turian narrowed his eyes even more, the black sclera almost disappearing, leaving only a uniformly cold, steel-gray orb staring back at the amused prisoner. Walking quicker so that he was not left behind, the dour C-Sec grunted, hands fiddling with the safety lock of his M-8 avenger.

"If you think this is funny, prisoner, I'm sure you'll really like our...hospitality." Sneered the slightly smaller, albeit gruffer Turian. "I hear prison food may even be something other than 'horrendous', these days."

The other security guard shot him a look, and shook his head a bit, before droning on about Joru's 'rights'.

She didn't even bother to suppress her grin, "Oh, no doubt about it. Then again, I've only eaten Systems Alliance MREs, and prison food couldn't possibly be worse than those." Her tail almost knocked into the hurrying guard as he moved closer, brushing quickly past his leg, though the woman shifted with eerie grace to avoid knocking his legs out from under him. She twisted to give him an arched eyebrow, then smirked at his drawn gun, flexing her arms in a shrug, and very clearly showing off the heavy wrap of chain binding her forearms together. "I doubt it's C-Sec policy to shoot an unarmed, bound prisoner, Officer. Even if she does have a bit of a mouth on her."

With a shrug, the guard shifted lightly to face their oversized prisoner. "It is C-Sec policy to be armed at all times, and to leave it to the guards how much...force is required to ensure the law is being followed." He waved the assault rifle at that. The gruff Turian gave what could be a barking laugh, and continued until they all reached a checkpoint.

"Officers Victus and Caestron, escorting prisoner to the cells."

The human manning the checkpoint nodded at the officers. "Right. Hands on the ident pad. She been scanned yet?"

Both Turians shook their heads at that. "No, she needs scanning and weapon checks." Said the taller Turian.

"Right," he tapped a few keys, and the door opened to a small chamber beside the checkpoint. "Handscan on the wall, place your hands on the lighted circle, one at a time. Wait for the circle to blink twice before removing your hand."

Joru gave a slight shrug and stepped into the booth, eyes flicking about curiously before setting her right hand against the lighted circle. When it blinked twice, she switched hands. "Thank you for your cooperation," the man sounded rather bored. "Please look into the eyepiece," which raised into position, though the tall inmate had to lean over to gaze into it.

"Thank you for your cooperation," he said again. "Please remain still for the full-body scan." A long, vertical pole set into a track along the side of the small booth swept slowly around her, and Joru tail curled her tail protectively against her leg as the scanning device swept once, twice, thrice around her. "Thank you, you may now exit the scanner."

Joru shrugged mentally and stepped out, giving the two turians a grin. "Well, that wasn't so bad. Now, where to? I hope it isn't too far, don't want you two getting tired out escorting little ol' me." One eyelid dropped in a conspiratorial wink as she stepped over to the two guards.

"Teh," said the rough-looking Turian, clearly upset. "Keep your mouth in check, before we request a physical pat-down."

As they went back to walking, the taller Turian poked the other guard on the shoulder-plate with the muzzle of his rifle. "Victus," he whispered in warning. "We got flak last month, try to wait at least a year before doing it again."

Stepping up so he was even with the other two, Caestron resumed his staring contest, glaring at Joru from one side.

She gave him a grin, putting a bit of extra sway in her walk, her tail lashing slowly back and forth in long sinuous curves as the two turian guards lead her onward, listening to their talk and letting her eyes close.

Victus noticed what Joru was doing and snorted. Completely ignoring what his partner just warned him about, he leaned towards Joru and reached to push her forward with some strength. "Mind your step, we're not gonna stop for you." He shot at her, once again ignoring the hand-motions the taller Turian was making at him.

Her shoulder twisted, her tail snapped to the side, and she twisted her torso parallel to his thrust almost before he knew what was happening. The woman's face was serene as he missed his grip entirely and shoved empty air, nearly overbalancing himself. "Whoops, sorry about that." Though she was clearly not sorry at all. The worst bit about it, from his perspective, was that her eyes were still closed.

He snarled at that, face-plates opened and eyes narrowed into slits. "You're gonna pay for that, you w-" He reached for his compacted assault rifle, but was stopped by a strong hand.

"Calm. Down." Hissed Caestron, holding the smaller turian in place, his own gun almost forgotten in his other hand. He released Victus, and pulled him back and away from Joru. Poking his chest-plate harshly with his gun, he motioned to the prisoner and to one of the many security cameras around them. "Are you out of your mind? Do you know how much trouble you'll get if you attack a prisoner in plain sight?"

He stopped, waiting for an answer but only receiving an annoyed grunt from his partner. Grunting right back at him, the enraged Turian moved closer to Joru, simultaneously pushing Victus backwards once more as he went. "And you," he began, before stopping as he heard the grinding noise of his armored hand digging into the rifle's handle. "Behave yourself, before we call a restraining order and have you delivered to your cell trussed up like a bird for the oven, do you want that?"

She merely smirked at the pair of them as they squabbled, then shrugged, "It'd certainly make things interesting, but I usually charge if people wanna tie me up." A wicked little smirk touched her lips, those eerie red-golden eyes opening as she smirked down at Victus.

The guard groaned at that, but continued to lead the smirking prisoner towards her temporary new home. Victus, smartly, kept quiet. It took the group two more minutes of brisk-paced walk before they arrived at a corridor filled with standard-issue, omni-tool activated doors. Walking up to one in the very end of the corridor, the taller Turian activates his tool and presses it against the holographic scanner, opening the door and allowing the three to glimpse inside.

"You are to stay here until another party comes to escort you to the jury. You will receive food and water at standard prison times, and will not be allowed external access in any other situation." He said, again in his droning, well-practiced voice.

Joru glanced inside, giving a slight grin as her eyes flicked to the corners, "All for me? Nice. I've been in prisons where they'd cram six people into a cell this size." She turned to him, stepping inside the doorway with precise little movements of tail and feet, "If you can manage to keep the cooks from charring the meat too much, I'd appreciate it. I prefer my meat... _very_ rare." She gave a wide smile, fully displaying the long fangs as she grinned down at the two turians. She stepped back through the doorway and let the door snap shut with a hiss and a clank. She was still visible through the one-way metaglass viewport set into the doorway, stepping over to the small cot and sitting almost delicately. She lifted both long legs and assumed a lotus position, her tightly-bound forearms resting on her shins as her tail curled about her in a loose circle.

The two guards waited around the door for a few moments, before they turned to leave, walking back the way they came. After a few steps, Victus let out a few, quiet chuckles, before barking loudly in laughter.

"What?" Asked Caestron, before letting out a few chuckles of his own. "You're crazy, you know that?"

Victus shrugged, throwing an amused glance back the way they came. "Kinda like that one, she has spunk. Have to agree on her food preferences, too."

The taller turian shook his head, motioning for the guard in the checkpoint that they were on their way to file the never-ending reports. "Honestly, you're as bad as a Krogan sometimes."

* * *

**AN:** Apologies for the long wait, peeps, I've been in something of a rut of late, and only recently found that special place that allows me to tap the story again. I hope that this answers some (but not all) of your questions, and gives you an idea of what's up with the new girl. Several people have asked what she is, and given interesting ideas, but only one person was anywhere near the mark. Then again, when someone introduces themself as a half-dragon, I have to wonder what the other half is. I hope to have the next chapter up soon, I've got some really neat ideas, and this'll be more my speed, an action chapter to balance out the dialog from this one. And no, I won't spoil things by telling you what action will happen. *wicked chuckle* You'll have to wait and see. Hopefully it won't take months this time!

I do want to request that, if you leave a review, please sign in before doing so? One person left a review I would have replied to, but because they didn't log in, I was unable to do so. *sadface*


	3. Chapter 3: The First Rumbles

**Ripples in the Stream**

A D&amp;D / Shadowrun / Mass Effect crossover by Vyrexuviel

Disclaimer: The author of this story does not, in any way, derive any profit from the story. D&amp;D, Shadowrun and Mass Effect are the property of their respective copyright holders. Jorukaia and other unfamiliar characters in this story, however, are mine.

* * *

It took her nearly ten minutes to give C-Sec the credit they were due, they hadn't been stupid enough to leave an inmate with an easy way out. Smart. She suppressed a slight smirk, perched on her 'bunk' in the C-Sec cell-cube. Her tail had been curled about her legs, but now she unfurled it and shifted positions, rolling over to lay on her side and letting her tail-tip dangle off the end of the bed to twitch against the floor with her amusement.

They hadn't left open the door for her, so she was going to have to do this the old-fashioned way. A gleam of light glanced off a fang as she contemplated her route. She knew the way back to that interesting asari's console, but hopefully they'd have something a bit closer and out of view for her to use...

Joru frowned slightly to herself, eyes closed as she fiddled with her chains. It was just for show, her real attention was inward, sorting through the dream-memories and seeing what information she could glean from them. Jordan Shepard may not have been the most observant person in the galaxy, but she was damned perceptive when it came to combat, and that was what she needed for the moment. Sorting through all those thirteen years of memories would take time, but she had plenty of it for now.

First things first, though. She shifted again, standing and letting her tail coil into a seatrest as she balanced upon that appendage as she lifted her legs into a lotus position. It was uncomfortable, but that was part of the point. Meditation had never been her strong suit, but with little to do for the time being, and a lot to think about, it was better than being bored.

The slot in the wall chimed, an amber light blinked twice, and the slot opened, extruding a small tongue of metal on which sat a prison-standard plate with her ration. Joru's nostrils flared ever so slightly, unconsciously analyzing the aroma of the meat-like substance and rejecting it as food while her mind was otherwise occupied. Later, she'd realize that the tray had been presented for 25 citadel minutes before being withdrawn again, uneaten. No matter, her Sustenance kept her hunger at bay.

She had better things to think about, as her lips creased in a faint, knowing smile.

* * *

Shen Lao was bored, but that was par for the course on the graveyard shift. As a monitoring technical officer, his job was to sit and watch the various vidfeeds from the various cells under his surveillance to be sure the inmates were behaving themselves. However, there weren't that many inmates in his little slice of C-Sec Super-Max tonight; just a krogan, as the normal cells aren't up to holding them, that odd-looking humanoid with the tail, and the raging, psychotic human that had been caught playing with the bones of his dismembered victims. Lao still got cold shivers when he thought about that case. He sipped his coffee and paged through the vidfeeds. Coffee was something his turian partner could never get used to, as the scent was disagreeable to his species. Just another shift in one of the quieter sections of C-Sec.

'Huh, that's weird.' He paused the scroll. Each cell had eight cameras, positioned and angled to give 100% coverage of their cells, covering the entirety of the enclosed space from their locations in each of the corners of the rooms. The woman had been balancing on her tail for the past few hours, ever since Lao had come on shift. However, now Cell #1138 was only showingblank blackness for all eight feeds. The time-stamp was still working properly, Lao checked, but the cameras were only registering blackness. Had the inmate somehow coated them with some sort of paint? He checked rapidly. Yes, that was the new one, the.. Darastrix? Odd, he hadn't heard of that species before.

Still, there was something wrong here. He shifted and called over his shoulder, "Tetus, what do you make of this?"

The turian stepped over, sipping his own version of the universal caffeinated beverage his species preferred, taking a look at the feeds, "Blank? Huh. Probably instrumentation failure."

"That's what I thought too, but look," Lao pointed out the timestamps, "if it was instrumentation, the timestamps would be gone too, they're generated at the camera level."

Tetus' eyes narrowed slightly, "Then we might have an incident. I'll send a pair down to check"

"Better make it fast. Something about this rubs me wrong..."

* * *

She was a new cop, only got out of C-Sec Academy a month ago. As a rookie, Alicia Hernandez had to take whatever assignments were available, so she got stuck on prison guard duty until something in her own specialty could be found. Paired with an older turian guard, she walked briskly down the corridor, eyes gleaming a bit as she automatically checked the cameras in the corridor.

Zekis paused before the door in question, frowning with mandibles pulled tight to his face, gesturing at the window. Alicia glanced at the utterly black, blank window and frowned. "What the hell?"

"I haven't seen anything like that before." The admission made Alicia reach for her gun. The unknown was never good in this job. Zekis motioned her back, but she was already out of easy lunging range of the door when he popped the lock and let it open.

A deep, impenetrable darkness flooded out of the doorway, making Zekis vanish for a moment before he stumbled out of the zone of lightlessness, cursing a blue streak, "Control, there's something fucked up here-" He broke off as the darkness seemed to melt away at his words. The oddly-static edge of the lightless zone shifted and faded as light returned to the cell, as if with its last gasp it had tried to reach for the turian guard. Alicia shivered at that mental image, 'Get a hold of yourself, girl.'

Zekis threw her a hand signal, and Alicia tightened her grip on her gun. "It seems to be going now," he reported over his comms, "I'm going to take a look inside." The older turian gave the human a nod and rolled around the edge of the door.

After a few seconds, Zekis' low, venomous "Shit" could be clearly heard.

* * *

Joru gave a soft smirk, resisting the impulse to brush against the cops as she silently slid past them. It was quite nice of them to open the door for her, but now she had to move quickly. She slid rapidly down the corridor, took the first left, then paused at the security checkpoint. There was a different guard inside than last time. This one was a slender, feminine turian, instead of the male human. No matter.

She concentrated, focusing inward, feeling for the wellspring that was her legacy. Time and space bent around her, and she stepped quietly through the shadows between all things and emerged once more on the far side of the checkpoint. She suppressed a smirk, turning slowly and consulting her mind's-eye map as her awareness adjusted to her new position. Two more turns and she'd get to the front desk.

Invisible on silent wings, the dragoness flitted forward, not a sound to mark her passage.

* * *

Faint sounds could be heard coming from the data-station closest to Personal Effects, where an asari matron was manning the station and staring rather intently at the holo-display. Her bright, yellow eyes were glued to the latest hit from the Elcor soap-opera industry. So focused was the matron on the surprisingly long, emotional episode that she completely missed the blinking light on the corner of her display. That light had been blinking steadily for the past few minutes when something totally unexpected tore her from her absorption in the soap-opera.

A hand gripped her left wrist, dragging it away from the console, as another, monstrously strong, grasped her by the chin, and held her head back against the firmly muscled shoulder as she and her chair were savagely dragged out of arm's reach of the desk. She couldn't see anyone, her perspective was wrong, but surely she couldn't have missed it when someone reached for her wrist? The bewildering chaos of her thoughts was skewered by a low, firm voice in her ear. "Do exactly what I say, nothing more, and you'll get out of this in one piece."

* * *

'What a bitch of a day.' Executor Pallin rubbed the base of his crest, where his usual headache seemed to be thudding even more than usual. At least the day would be over soon, and he'd managed to get rid of that walking pain-in-the-ass Udina a few hours ago. Just a few more reports to review, then he could - his console gave the soft beep of an incoming call, high priority, at the same time that a panel along the top edge turned from the usual silver to a dull red that screamed danger to turian eyes.

'Damnit.' He keyed the comm open, "What happened?"

"Prisoner escape, Super-Max. Cell 1138, the, um, Darastrix."

'...Fuck, that was Udina's pet.' "When?"

"We aren't sure, sir, but we got confirmation that she's out and loose just a minute ago. Terrified a clerk in Inventory, was trying to find out where her stuff was in the warehouse."

Pallin hadn't made it to his position without learning how to make a decision fast and on incomplete data. "Lock down Inventory and all adjoining sections, and seal the building just in case. Send three squads to Inventory and another group to each other section. How'd she get out?"

"Unknown sir, we're still working on that."

"Let me know when you find out, or find her."

* * *

"You hear that?" Victus murmured softly to Caestron. The inventory warehouse was compact, but still extensive, an efficient means of holding prisoner effects and various other items. "Sounds like it came from over there." The smaller turian nodded towards the next row. Massive rotary shelves gave ground-level access to the towering structures' contents, the distinctive low rumble of one in motion sounding from the next aisle over.

Caestron nodded, his fingers splayed in the standard Turian sign for caution. He grabbed his assault rifle from its mag-clamp, the weapon softly whirring as it unfolded. With careful, near-silent steps, he slipped forward, stopping to give the next row a quick, covert glance and let his partner catch up.

Victus had his weapon out from the moment they slid into the warehouse, slipping silently up behind Caestron and waiting for the go-ahead. The big rotary shelving unit had ceased turning, and there was a personal effects crate out on the floor about halfway down the aisle.

Soft shuffling sounds came from where a rather familiar shape was busily extracting things and buckling them on. She had already stripped out of her prisoner tunic, which lay discarded on the floor, and now wore what looked like a very tight-fitted top, cropped to just about the edge of her rib-cage, and molded tight to her chest. A pair of very tight-fitted leather leggings of the same sort of hide clung to her lower half, a cutout section allowing her tail to emerge without binding it too tight. A belt of some lighter leather hung low on her waist. Some sort of steel clasp had been attached at the point where her tail thickened, just before the point, small spikes jutting at angles to compliment her tail's own natural weapondryl, and she wore some sort of jeweled armband about her right wrist.

"Come on, where are you... ahh..." The figure leaned back, examining something that looked like a ring made of some highly polished dark metal before sliding it on her finger with a soft sigh. The posture revealed some sort of choker about her neck, studded with a double-row of small metal rivets in some dark leather.

Caestron paused, glancing somewhat incredulously at the figure. He looked back at his partner, and mouthed 'Spunk girl' at him, to which Victus blinked back at him, mandibles flaring a bit in surprise.

The taller turian pointed towards the next row, and then to where he currently was. Not waiting for a signal of agreement or understanding - they had been partners for quite a while, after all, Caestron moved as fast and silently as he could towards the next row, weapon ready for any engagement.

The figure's tail twitched slightly, swaying slowly behind her as he rapidly dashed to the next row. She reached into the box and pulled out one further thing before rising, her long tail lashing a bit. A quiet chuckle sounded as she rose, sliding the narrow-bladed dagger against the edge of the box and drawing a long, thin gash in the side. It wasn't a weapon he recognized, it was about as long as her forearm, the short hilt and straight blade a deep, dark metal that seemed to glisten with some sort of bluish-purple lustre. "You two might as well come out, I can hear you moving around back there."

Caestron looked at Victus, knowing the other Turian's disposition, shook his head to shut him up. Another quick look from his cover position, the guard pointed slightly with his head towards Jorukaia, and, using his left hand, motioned that she had some sort of weapon.

"If you come peacefully, the law guarantees no harm will come your way. Drop your weapon, or we'll be forced to respond."

"What weapon?" She turned, a faint grin tugging up one corner of her lips as she glanced over at the pair of turians. Which was actually a good question, the weapon seemed to have vanished, her hands empty. The front of her top was laced tightly in the center baring the center of her surprisingly ample chest. The clasp on her choker, however, was embedded behind an egg-sized gem of some sort, the color of an open flame, red and orange swirls meeting in a dizzying display that drew the eye.

Victus gave a surprised, gaping stare for a moment, then gripped his assault rifle tighter. "Hands up." He shot a sidelong glance at Caestron, shifting slowly forward, keeping to the far side of the aisle from his partner. Caestron nodded in agreement, coming up a few steps behind his partner, rifle up and sights on the prisoner.

The ebon prisoner gave a soft smirk. "Oh, very well." She lifted her hands, the ring giving a dark gleam from the middle finger on her right. Her red-gold eyes flickered between the pair of them as she shifted a bit to keep them both in view. "I should warn you, though. I'm not going back to that cell."

Caestron gripped his rifle tighter at the slight shifting of the dragoness, but said nothing. There wasn't much they were required to say in situations like these, after all. Step by step, the security guard moved forward, on the lookout for any sudden movements from the prisoner.

"Really." Victus' voice was laced with scorn and sarcasm as he moved nearly opposite the woman.

Her tail twitched lazily behind her and her eyes gleamed with amused delight. "Yup." Her voice had dropped to a low, throaty contralto. "I'm going to walk out of here. And you won't stop me."

Victus sneered as he moved opposite where the prisoner was standing, Caestron a good several meters farther back. "And just how do you-" But that was when the prisoner exploded into a blur of motion.

* * *

'First order of business: Remove the weapon.' Her tail snaked out, fast as a bullwhip, and just as accurate. She spun into the motion, legs and arms whirling to build momentum, snapping her tail around once more and using the momentum to crack her tail-tip, with its thick, hardened scales, right into the smaller turian's weapon, just opposite where his thumb grasped it. The added sideways motion neatly broke his grip where it was weakest.

'Second order of business: Remove the attacker.' She planted her left foot, her bared claws grasping at the flooring, and pivoted, lancing her other leg out with stunning force, aiming where he should be, as her vision was momentarily obscured by the long fall of coal-black hair.

She felt his shield as a mild tingle, just before the ball of her foot impacted, right above his sternum, if turians were anything like humans.

* * *

Victus' eyes widened as he was first divested of his gun, then kicked with incredible force. He felt his feet lose contact with the ground, then his back impacted against the back wall of the neighboring rotary storage unit. His head snapped back, the points of his crest slamming into the steel with brain-spearing agony. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't _see_. But that didn't matter anymore, as a wave of faintness blotted out his vision.

* * *

'Third order of business: Remove his friend.' She was too far away from the other one, who was starting to react now. Her lips twitched upward in a faint smile, whirling once more as her left hand curled to grip something that wasn't there, and kicking off with her other foot. '**Now**.'

* * *

It happened way too fast. One moment Victus was mouthing off as usual, the next the prisoner had somehow gotten his gun away from him and with one kick had Victus down on the ground. He wasn't out cold, just woozy from that crack to the crest, but he'd be useless for a few minutes. And the damned bitch was still moving.

He dropped into a firing crouch, bringing his AR up just as the bitch launched herself right at him! And then she was there, _right in front of him!_ He caught a momentary glimpse of sorrow in her eyes, then the world exploded in pain.

* * *

Crests are rather sensitive, and Victus had hit his _just_ the wrong way. He felt like someone had tried to tear his skull open, and could only bare manage to focus enough to see his attacker, damn that fucking "spunky bitch".

He pulled his gun up, aimed and his finger tightened on the trigger all in one fluid movement. It was exactly like a practice shot out on the range, his instincts were well honed.

The shot went wide, but the target was already dodging and a spray of something black splattered against the back wall of the next row of rotary shelves as his bullet tore through her left shoulder. Even so, she twisted with a lighting grace, and Caestron never saw the blade in hand, only the long glittery stream of something as it headed his way.

* * *

Caestron's chest hurt. He looked down, the hilt of spunk-bitch's blade jammed from his rent chestplate. He coughed, wondering why he wasn't dead yet.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry." The bitch actually sounded sincere. He was laying across her knees, his head cradled in one of her hands. Her eyes were on his, sad and somehow kind, despite the fact of her weapon having just slid through his chest.

"Fuck.. you..." Talking hurt, everything hurt. One corner of her lips quirked up at that as she gently lowered him to the floor.

"I wish it could have ended differently. You're a good man, in your own way." She gripped the hilt of her dagger, and just like that, the bitch was gone. Caestron couldn't hold onto consciousness anymore. He had just enough time to hear the sounds of running feet as his backup arrived far too late.

* * *

{It has returned.}

[The Anomaly? It has been inactive for 10.38664 solar cycles.]

{The Anomaly has been located. Sector six, subsector 113. Installation 0001.}

[Instruct your servitor to investigate.]

{I have done so.}

Saren jerked upright on his couch, trembling very slightly. Instinctively, he reached to stroke his mechanical left arm, the feel of metal and machinery somehow subtly soothing. His eyes narrowed and he swung off the couch and to his feet in one fluid motion, tapping the key to release the door. Sovereign seemed to hesitate slightly before releasing the hatch, and in the minute pause before the door opened, imparted much to his most trusted servant.

Momentarily, he wondered why Sovereign wanted the Citadel scoured for someone or something that may have recently arrived, something unusual and out of place. But, it wasn't his place to question his master's orders. If he wanted to salvage the galaxy, he had to prove that organics were viable servants.

But sometimes, in the deepest recesses of his mind, he had his doubts.

* * *

AN: I updated both this chapter and the previous one a bit to remove a bit of confusing bits, address a couple oversights on my part, and clarify some things. I cannot thank enough my beta on this fic, Erratus Enigma, who helped me write most of Chapter 2, and whose editing improved this chapter about 500%.

PS: Me, Myself and I: PLEASE log in, so I can reply to your excellent reviews! ^.^


	4. Chapter 4: Embers in the Dark

**Ripples in the Stream**

A D&amp;D / Shadowrun / Mass Effect crossover by Vyrexuviel

Disclaimer: The author of this story does not, in any way, derive any profit from the story. D&amp;D, Shadowrun and Mass Effect are the property of their respective copyright holders. Jorukaia and other unfamiliar characters in this story, however, are mine.

* * *

Things hadn't always been this bad. Crime had been increasing recently, and growing more and more organized. For most people, this wouldn't really have been a problem, as that same organization meant that random petty crime, the kind that most people notice, had actually gone down. Detective Chellick, however, had a duty to notice. Which is why he was here, actually. Chora's Den wasn't exactly his scene, but, duty called. He sipped his drink, not a particularly good one, but also one without any actual alcohol in it. Jenna, his deep-cover informant currently working as a bartender, was careful to keep her boss supplied with drinks that wouldn't dull his edge. He hadn't needed it yet, but...

The two krogan over at the entrance to the back room were getting heated. One of them wanted in, the other wanted him out. The former was big, even for a krogan, red crest with a scarred face that had clearly seen a lot of action. He stood with quiet assurance while the other kept shifting, not something that most krogan live long enough to acquire. The other was a bouncer, paid well, and clearly not about to let the oldster in. He wasn't quite close enough to hear what they were arguing about, over the pulsing rhythm of the music, but he saw-

His eyes widened a bit as a figure became visible through the shifting crowd. No mistaking that long, sinuous tail, no other known species had that. The horns were also a dead giveaway as the escapee glanced almost amusedly at the turian who had just bounced off her. Chellick dropped his left hand under the table, activating his omnitool by rote and keeping the holographic interface from showing.

"Dispatch."

"Chellick here. I have eyes on that escaped prisoner." He kept his voice low, but still audible over the music. It wouldn't do for him to be noticed, not this close to the payoff.

"Confirm. You've spotted the escaped... ahh, Darastrix?" The dispatcher's voice had gone both quite a bit more interested and slightly louder. Must be a slow day at the office.

"Yes, she's in Chora's Den. Not sure why- hold on." The woman's gaze had locked on something, and Chellick followed it as best he could. Almost across the club from where he was sitting was the old human, Harkin. He'd been cashiered from C-Sec recently, and was evidently drowning his sorrows. Talking to him was a figure in Alliance armor. Her helmet was off, but her brown hair, something that always fascinated him, was up in a bun, and she was clearly rather annoyed at Harkin. She had just turned, and spotted the darastrix.

This could be trouble. "There might be an incident in progress. I'll keep you informed," Chellick kept his comm open as he watched. Even as the human opened her mouth to say something, the darastrix merely tilted her head in acknowledgment and moved through the crowd. Chellick lost visual on her, and evidently so did the human, as she started to stalk forward.

When the human started looking around, though, Chellick got worried. "Just lost contact. Send a squad here for a spot-check?"

"They already sent a high-threat response unit, Detective. I'd get out of there quietly if I were you."

Chellick was hardly one to disobey orders.

* * *

It had been a long day. A long, hard, tiring day, and it wasn't over yet. He had always been able to keep that disconnect, keep his inner thoughts from showing. It made him a hell of a con-man in his youth, and now he could negotiate with the movers and shakers in the galaxy without letting on what he was thinking, even to beings ten times his age. Even so, his hands shook the tiniest bit as he poured himself some bourbon, the amber liquid splashing into the tumbler.

Shadow Broker, or Saren. Fuck both of them, he was Fist, he'd do his own thing. Or so he'd thought at the time. When a prize that juicy drops into your lap, you don't question where it came from, you don't look for strings. You grab, and cut the strings later. Except these were more like steel cables. Now he's got a Broker-hired merc on his ass, and Saren promising vague rewards for his cooperation. Not good.

"Nice place."

His heart nearly stopped as he whipped around. He'd been _alone_, damn it, his security was tight, it had to be, to deal with exactly this sort of shit!

The woman lounging on his sofa, though... She was something else. His mind blanked a bit as he saw the tail snaking sinuously as she stretched. She was looking around, apparently somewhat impressed as she sat on _his_ sofa. He'd gotten that thing used, sure, but he'd tested it, it was genuine leather.

No armor, no visible weapons. And in _that_ outfit she wasn't concealing much. He relaxed, but only a trifle. She _had_ been able to get past his security, after all. She turned slightly, her gaze meeting his, and an inexplicable shiver ran down his spine. He didn't let it show, though.

He never did.

"Thanks. I decorated myself." He took a sip of his bourbon. "Mind telling me how you got past my security? I don't _think_ I forgot to lock the door."

A faint smile touched her lips. She shifted, sitting up more fully now, and crossing her legs. Damn her, but she had good ones. "Oh, this and that." That smile was mocking, had to be. 'Bitch.'

"I see," the man said, his voice betraying nothing of what he thought of the woman, or the situation he was in. He glanced at her, swirling the aged spirit in his tumbler as he made a few, deliberately smooth steps towards the couch. "And what business would you have with me?" He took another sip, being careful not to drink too much now. "I assume this is business, right?"

"Quite, Mr. Fist. I do assume that that is your preferred title?" She gave a slight nod at his own and went on, "I propose a trade. Information for a service. You give me a small, trifling bit of data, and I offer you a service you won't find anywhere else in the galaxy."

He held in a snort, moving a bit easier towards his chair now. Pausing at the edge of his desk, he turned back to the woman, a small, sardonic smile on his face. "Is that so?" He swirled the bourbon once more, and set the tumbler on the desk. "You know, a Salarian came here last week offering much the same?" Fist took the final steps towards his chair, and sat down, rotating so he was facing the invader. Steepling his fingers in what was universally considered the business pose, he considered the woman's words. On the unlikely chance she was telling the truth, perhaps he could use her. Fist was in severe need of prime services, caught between Saren and the Shadow Broker as he was. And if she wasn't-well, he had people who could deal with her. "Let's see if your offer is better than his."

The woman's smile widened, a glitter in her eyes as she shifted and leaned forward. Her eyes seemed to glow softly as she murmured, "I can get you out from between the rock and the hard place you've stuck yourself, Fist. I can give you a head start. Give you time to grab whatever funds you have, whatever assets you can liquidate, quietly, and flee before they notice. I can give you the most precious gift of all."

Her eyes seemed to glitter like rubies in the dark, "Time."

She squirmed slightly, adjusting her position, and moving her long tail from her left side to her right. "All I ask in return, is just a bit of data. The location and time of a certain meeting that I'm sure you're aware of." She leaned back in her seat again, eyes still on his. It was quite eerie, how they never seem to blink.

Fist made a humming sound, his left hand moving down to rest on his legs, brushing against a small, easily concealable button under the desk. With his right hand, the man took his tumbler and once more had a small sip, setting it down right after it. "That's all well and good, lady, but data's expensive, and I don't give it on assumptions."

"Then how about a demonstration?" She gave that faint, mocking smile again, and something seemed to shift. 'Did she slouch down?' A downward glance, however, showed no sign of the long, sinuous tail, and a glance up at her face showed no horns. A third glance in rapid succession, and Fist wasn't sitting across from a woman of unknown race who somehow got into his office, he was sitting across from an asari, fairly tall for the species, with a scar across her nose, deep-purple eyes and vivid blue skin, still wearing the same, tight outfit she had been before, even down to the annoyingly mocking smile.

"I trust that this is sufficient to prove myself?" Even her voice has changed, lighter and less resonant than when she was in that... other body.

Fist blinked. He tried to remember what kind of technology could make such a convincing hologram, but shook his head before long. It wouldn't do to try and figure out what she had-Fist had never been a very technologically-inclined person. He dealt with people and deals, and had others do the rest for him. 'Probably one of them Salarian crazies. Bet she doesn't even look like that,' thought the human, cynically. 'Still, who is this? Knows about Saren and the Shadow Broker... .'

He brought his left hand to a drawer, opening it as quietly as he could, the hand resting on top of a modified Karpov pistol. He glanced slightly at it, suppressing a wince at how much the thing had cost him. Still, it was useful for the few times he had to intimidate or...deal with pests. The Karpov line was, after all, famous for excessive firepower.  
"Was that supposed to impress me?" He asked, his tone deliberately mocking. "Unless you can turn into someone, I'll take cloaking any day."

"Ohh, so you want something challenging." She gave that damnable smile, "Mmm, alright..." Those deep-purple eyes closed for just a moment, the asari seeming to blur around the edges. A moment or two later when they opened again, Fist found himself staring at a very... odd sight. The figure was still wearing the same leather-leggings and halter top as before, and it looked very _fucking_ strange when wrapped around _his own body_.

His own voice, with the same half-smirk in it he knew so well, murmured, "I take it this might do?"

Fist suddenly choked on his own spit, violently coughing at the almost hellish sight in front of him. Seeing himself in those clothes, wearing that smirk was not anywhere near his list of things he wanted to do. After a few moments, he massaged his now sore throat with his right hand, caught between closing his eyes and never opening them again, and glaring at the very familiar and very strange sight in front of him.

"Jesus, woman, change back. Change back!" he said between clenched teeth, and half-closed eyes.

Her snicker was clearly audible, but she changed back to her native state, or at least, he assumed it was her native state, in no more, or less, time than she had taken previously. "I take it you believe me now?"

She leaned forward again, eyes fixed on his. "With the right outfit, I can do a very convincing job of being _you_, Mr. Fist. So convincing, in fact, that all your enemies will be focused on me, allowing you, with a suitable disguise, to get away clean, with all your hard-earned cred and whatever intel might buy you a safe place to rebuild."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up..." The implied 'bitch' following that was audible, even though he hadn't actually said it.

She lifted a hand at him, "I'm not offering you protection, I'm offering you a chance at surviving your enemies' wrath, that's all. I believe that that might be worth the price I asked?"

This time, Fist drank all the remaining bourbon in his tumbler with almost intense desperation, swallowing it all in one go. He coughed one last time, and slammed the tumbler back on the desk, cracking the top slightly. Eyes slightly watering, he looked back to the now-presentable woman.  
"And what's stopping you from just bolting when I do that, huh?" He asked, his voice hoarse.

"That would violate the terms of our agreement, Mr. Fist," she clucked her tongue at the very thought of such an idea. "You're a businessman, surely you know that repeat business is the greater part of profit. Once I've faked your sufficiently public and undeniable death, I would assume that a man like you would have a great deal of use for someone with my... Abilities..."

Fist hummed again, this time considering things more seriously. It was very possible that the woman could be trying to fuck him over-with her ability, she could be working for any of the multiple parties he'd aggravated in the past. Unfortunately, Fist couldn't exactly pass the offered chance up. As things were, he was either dead or ruined. "Just the meeting data, right?" He asked, his left hand coming up from where it rested on the pistol, his hands now steepled once again.

She gave that faint smile again, those glowing-red eyes boring into his own, "Yes, just the meeting data."

"When are you gonna blink, bitch? Jesus..." he murmured quietly. Fist brought up his terminal, the slight orange haze casting shadows at his face. With the expertise of a man who worked with a terminal for the better part of many years, he found the information needed. He could have just told her, but experience taught him never to reveal information out loud. Not only was it bad for business, it also invited unknowns to listen in to his conversations. "Got it right here. I would hurry if I were you-it's scheduled to start in a few minutes. What's your contact?"

Her brows rose fractionally, "An OSD would be preferable, but if you insist..." Her eyes went distracted for a moment, the familiar orange hologram appearing about her left hand, and her long fingers dancing quickly through it. After a moment, a local device ping appeared on his screen, the woman's omnitool attempting to set up a secure line with his terminal.

Fist raised a hand, stalling the request while he checked on the connection. Opening his usual batch of security co-routines, made specifically for him from a now dead Salarian contact, he allowed the codes to run until they finished. Satisfied with the amount of security, he finally accepted the line, immediately linking the meeting data to the woman's omni-tool.

She gave a faint nod, her eyes flickering momentarily. "Ahh. I see. Quite soon, then." She smiled faintly over at him, "I suppose this is genuine?"

He shrugged, eying the mini-corridor that led to his bar wistfully. "As genuine as can be, considering."

"Then I take you at your name's word, Mr. Fist." Something about her voice had gone different. Not menacing, but a bit playful.

"...what?" Asked the man, now confused, considering what her words meant. "You know what, nevermind. Just...hurry. You want the girl's data, you need to get to her before the others do." Said that, the man got up from behind his desk, fingers blazing across his omni-tool as he pinged as many trusted contacts as he could. "And while you do that, Tails, I've got a bottle with my name on it."

She didn't reply with words, merely gave him a wide, toothy smile. Far too toothy, he realized, just before the lights went out.

* * *

He checked his rifle for the seventh time since they got off the aircar. Fist wasn't one to lie down under pressure. If anything, pushing him was liable to drive him into a frenzy. He'd seen the type before, had to deal with them personally, in fact. That particular type usually never developed the self-restraint necessary to rise any higher than gang-leader or thug. Most of them never got even that far, but Fist was smarter than your average hot-head. He knew his own faults and used them to his advantage, which was why he'd not been caught before, and why he ran a fairly extensive, if rather sparse, informants net on the Citadel. You wanted to know things on Bachjret Ward, you went to Fist. The fact that the man also had Shadow Broker connections also meant that he had friends in unlikely places.

Which is why Garrus was checking his rifle again. No one knew how much firepower Fist's men had access to, after all. Or what sort of training, for that matter.

"We're here." He looked up as the big krogan stepped around another corner. Ah yes, there was the sign for Chora's Den, an outline of a reclining asari on a wedge-shape reminiscent of a divan. Garrus had come here himself a few times, mostly on duty rather than off, but he'd also met this pretty girl that he'd chatted with a few times. Before he'd had to put a bullet through her brain.

He'd gotten transferred out of undercover ops and a month's leave after that one. It'd been his first kill, and someone he'd gotten fairly close to.

Wrex paused, "Something's not right here."

The other member of their trio, barely, already had her assault rifle out, though pointed low, "How can you tell? It looks the same as last time." Gunnery Sergeant Ashley Williams was tense around aliens, and right now, she was the only one of her species in the group. She hung several places away, off to one side when she could, or behind Garrus, which he did _not_ like, when she couldn't. She'd re-donned her helmet for this.

"It's quiet."

Garrus's mandibles flexed in a slight smile, "Too quiet?" He had to hand it to the humans, they did know how to put together a good holo-movie.

"Yeah. Normally you can hear the music even out here." The big krogan shifted, head cocked slightly, then rolled his broad shoulders and glanced over at the turian, "Hope you're as good a shot as they say you are."

Garrus didn't have much of a chance to reply, as the huge armored beast lumbered forwards, towards where a pair of krogan loitered on either side of the doors. He slowed, gazing intently at them, "I'm going in. You won't stop me this time."

'This time?' wondered Garrus, but the other krogan just shrugged. "Orders changed. Boss left you a message in his office. Go on in." He reached to the panel beside the door and thumped it with his fist. The door slid open invitingly on a completely empty outer chamber, no pulse-pounding music, no dancers, no clients, no barmaids.

"Your boss is losing money by shutting the place down like this," Garrus murmured.

The krogan merely shrugged as Wrex stepped inside, shotgun in hand, "Boss said to close up early, get all the clients out, then send the rest of the staff home. We're just here until you all go in. Then we go home too. The doors will lock on their own once you come out."

He turned to his buddy, "C'mon, Garoka, the fights are on tonight." Both krogan levered themselves into a brisk walk, chatting about which fighter they wanted to put their respective money on.

Ash watched them go, then shot Garrus a clearly bewildered look. He shrugged and stepped through the door himself, "How is it, Wrex?"

"Empty." The big krogan sounded disgusted. 'Well, he probably had been looking forward to shooting his way through a whole horde of guards,' Garrus mused. "Nothing worth a bullet." He scuffed the ground with one boot, giving a low growl as he stomped over to the inner door.

The other two followed, it's never good to get in front of an angry krogan. That door too opened at Wrex's approach. This place was getting eerie. It had always been jumping, in Garrus's experience, pulse-pounding beats, the chatter of conversation, clink of drinks, but now...

He whirled, snapped his gun up and aimed in one fluid motion, but lowered it ruefully as Ash very carefully set a bottle back on the counter. Her other hand spread so Garrus could see she didn't have a gun. 'Damn. Need to calm down, Vakarian.'

"Sorry."

"Yeeeah." The human gave him a doubtful look, and she slipped through the door after the Krogan battlemaster, leaving Garrus alone in the outer office. He heaved a sigh and followed.

* * *

"Ahh, it's good of you to come." The voice of Fist came from the life-sized image on his main screen, which took up one wall of his smallish office. "I'm sorry I couldn't greet you in person, but you know how it is, things keep popping up. I do hope those lunks on guard duty didn't give you too much hassle, I tried to impress on them that they needn't try and defend this place at the cost of their lives."

'Weird, I hadn't thought that Fist cared about who he got killed.' Garrus glanced about, but the place seemed quite neat, clean, almost too clean.

"In the mean time, do make yourselves at home. I think there's a bottle of good Taetrus 2033 brandy in the tantalus, and of course, wine for the lady." He gave a faintly mocking nod to the room.

"Just what is all this?" the marine was clearly not in the drinking mood.

The hologram flickered ever so faintly. Garrus's eyes narrowed at the man in the hologram. 'An interactive message?'

"All this, as you say, is something of an apology. I'm sorry I couldn't meet you in person, but you know how busy I am." Fist gave an engaging, regretful smile. "Other business called me away." Another faint flicker crossed over his face, which shifted position ever so slightly.

Garrus nodded to himself, 'Definitely interactive. It's responding to what we say. Let's see if we can cut to the chase.'

"What is it you want to tell us, Fist?"

Another of those faint flickers. "I have a gift for you. All three of you in fact. For you, Mr Vakarian," the hologram paused a moment, a rueful smile on his face, "I'm going to assume you are, in fact, Detective Garrus Vakarian, C-Sec. If you aren't, please forgive the misuse of the name." He shifted his stance slightly, "The gift for you, Mr Vakarian, is complete files on a wide number of criminal enterprises set up on the Citadel. Complete notes, as I had some hand in setting them up, and as such, I know where all the numbers were tweaked to add up nicely, not to mention where the bodies are buried. Well, most of them."

Garrus's mandibles quirked. Quite apart from that being a very nice find for any officer, there was also something very odd with this man. Fist was always tightfisted, when it came to money, information, or power. He'd _never_ give something like that away, not unless he was almost lethally intoxicated, or had something massive in store. And then there was the faintly ironic tone he had placed on the 'I' in that statement...

But the hologram was already moving on, "To Ms Williams, I'm afraid I don't have quite as much to offer, though I do believe that the selection of armor and weapon upgrades you will find in the wall safe will be an adequate gift. And, of course, the bottle of Serrice Ice Brandy you'll find in the cooler behind the desk. Do give my regards to Karin, will you?" The ironic gleam in his eye was clearly puzzling to the marine, but she was already moving to the safe, finding it unlocked.

"To you, Battlemaster Urdnot Wrex, your own present is to be found in the closet." The hologram's head motioned towards the large door to its left, "Do be careful with it, it's quite fragile. You wouldn't want to break your toy before you had a good time with it, no?"

"Why are you doing this?" Garrus glared at the hologram. 'Damn slippery fish, playing a trick on us like this but not having the plates to do it in person.'

"Because you three deserve them of course, for your outstanding service and the time and effort you've spent in getting this far." The damned man gave a grin, then flickered a bit as Wrex opened the closet.

Whatever he, Garrus and Ashley were expecting, it was _not_ having a stiff corpse fall out on the krogan's chestplate. To his credit, the battlemaster didn't flinch at the unexpected thud, though he did look down in surprise. The corpse was headless, Garrus could see as Wrex pushed it off him to let it fall to the carpet. A raggedness to the skin and flesh indicated that it had been severed with many blades slicing at once, and the way the bones of the stump were...

He had to swallow hard as something thudded and rolled out of the closet. Wrex's eye followed it, and the krogan was already grinning as he squatted down to pick it up. He was chuckling outright as he rose and turned, showing it to the other two.

"But, if he... Then how...?" Williams' words mirrored his own as Garrus's gaze turned from Fist's head, held in Wrex's claws, to the man himself, grinning at them from the holographic wall-panel.

"I suppose some explanation is in order..." Fist gave a devilish grin, and something shifted. Garrus's eyes widened and he started immediately checking the computer system, trying to find where this message had been recorded, to make sure he got a copy before whoever did this erased it.

"You see," horns grew from the man's temples, "I'm not," his eyes darkened and shifted, going first purple then red, "actually," his face had changed shape and darkened still more, "Fist."

The face that stared out of the hologram now was one very familiar to Officer Vakarian. He'd been briefed on her escape yesterday, just hours after it happened, and now, here she was, having taken down a local crime-boss. His eyes strayed from her to the head still held in Wrex's grip.

"The body is proof, Mr Urdnot. I believe it would be more than adequate for satisfying your employer, no?" Her tone was light, almost laughing. Wrex merely grinned back at her.

That ruby gaze shifted to him, damned eerie how she could do that. "The crimes for which Fist kept files are all documented on his computer terminal. I guess because he didn't trust his ability to secure his own omnitool, and wanted to keep it in a place where he knew his files would be safe. The machine isn't wireless, and the encryption is top-notch, but I believe the password I've written on the piece of paper beneath it should work to get you in. As to the brandy, Ms Williams," the scarlet gaze shifted again, and Ashley glared back, "Do indeed give Karin my regards, and tell her I'm sorry to have scared her when first we met."

She grinned about at the three of them, then snapped her fingers and rolled her eyes, "Oh, yes, and because I'm a good soul, the data on the quarian you three were gearing up to beat out of Fist is on the OSD on the table," she gave a cheeky grin, "I'll see you again later, though you might not recognize me. Erei mu grind ontzos." She grinned wickedly, then vanished as the message ended, with just that cryptic phrase left behind.

Garrus heaved a sigh. 'This was not something I signed up for.'

* * *

Tali's day had gone to shit with all the speed of a Relay transit. One moment, she was about to buy herself safety, passage back to the Flotilla, and a place on any ship in the Fleet. The next, she'd been slapped in manacles. Sneaky turian bosh'tet hadn't even meant to play her along, he'd just walked up, acted as if he was the Shadow Broker's agent, and the instant she confirmed she was the girl he was looking for, like the most naive idiot, he'd nodded and clamped the damned manacles on!

She'd managed to get away only once in that initial scramble, but now they had her in a tight grip as they moved towards the edge of the roof. They probably weren't going to throw her off the edge. If they wanted her dead, they had far faster means of doing that. No, they probably wanted to make certain she hadn't given the data to anyone else yet, and take it off her themselves.

She was about three paces from the fire escape exit when she realized the turian to her left had stopped holding her arm tightly and now there was a spray of something wet, hot and sticky on the right side of her face-plate.

She wasn't really conscious of much else. One moment there had been ten of Saren's thugs on the roof, the next, eight of them were down with lethal wounds. One had had his head sheared off entirely, another's chestplate had been chopped open from one shoulder to the opposite hip. And a new figure had appeared. She moved with a stunning speed, whirling and glittering as she moved through the guards with a grace that was eerie for its silence as much as the vicious fury she unleashed.

One guard had managed to get his gun up and fire at her before she had hurled her long knife at him with enough force to skewer his right shoulder to the metaplast wall next to the fire escape. He cried out and dropped his gun as that arm went limp with the tendons severed, while she merely stared at the by-now terrified tenth guard.

* * *

She couldn't quite suppress a faint smirk as the last uninjured guard fouled himself and fled, dropping his weapons in his panicky haste. She always felt good after a kill, and it had been _so long_ since she'd let herself enjoy her base urges.

The soft swearing off to one side drew her mind back from the pleasurable haze, and she shook her head once to rid herself of the last lingering traces. She stepped over to the pinned turian, who was glaring at her as he tried to work her dagger free of his shoulder. He hadn't succumbed to the pain, meaning he was stronger of will than most, but no matter his strength of mind, everyone broke at some point.

She reached out and pulled his hand from the hilt with negligent ease, but instead of pulling her blade free, she gripped it and twisted slightly, forcing a cry of pain from his clenched mandibles.

"I didn't get a chance to tell your young friend, so you'll have to be my messenger."

He snarled at her, eyes squinted nearly shut in the pain, and tried to lash out at her with a kick. She merely sidestepped it, giving him credit for at least trying. "When Saren hears of this, he'll gut you."

"Many have tried. They're all dead now." She gave the long knife another twist for good measure, making him almost whimper as he felt the edge of her blade shave little slivers of bone.

"Now be a good boy and tell your master this from me." She gave a soft little smile, knowing it betrayed a bit of her satiation with the bloodshed, and not giving a damn. "Tell Saren... Tell Nazara. The Darastrix hunts them. Remember that." With an almost gentle pressure, she pulled her weapon free with a vicious twist, letting a gout of dark-blue blood flow from his wound as the turian crumpled to the rooftop.

She stood for a moment, staring down at the fallen man as he fumbled at his belt with his one working hand, evidently aiming for medigel. She gave a soft tsking sound and lightly kicked the side of his head before squatting down to apply the medigel herself to the now-unconscious turian.

A soft sound off to one side snapped her head around, eyes blazing, teeth bared and her blade back in hand.

* * *

Tali was ready to wake up. This had to be a nightmare, one of the bloody ones she'd had after the accident. There was no way that much blood was real, no way, please, oh Keelah let this be a dream. In her incipient panic, she whimpered, and her breath caught as the, the _thing_ snapped around and all but hissed at her. She cringed back against the side of one of the air recirculation units, but the woman had given a contrite nod, rising slowly to her feet as her tail swayed behind her.

"You're Tali'Zora vas- no, nar Rayya, correct?"

Tali blinked under her faceplate, gulped and tried to slow her breathing like the councilor had taught. "Y-Yes, I-I am Tali'Zorah. T-To whom do I have the honor of speaking?" The formal phrasing was something of a balm to her frazzled spirit.

The woman's lips quirked slightly and she gave a slight bow of her horned head, "I am known as Jorukaia. I am sorry to have given you distress." Her words were gentle, almost soft. Later, Tali would liken them to the soft syllables of a conman, attempting to charm the mark out of their hard-earned money.

"It.. It was good of you to intervene..." Tali swallowed, trying to look at the woman's face. By some quirk of combat, only a faint dappling of turian blood had gotten on one cheek, though the rest of her was splashed and splattered in blood, both turian and human. 'Don't look Tali, don't look or you'll remember too much.'

She already did, hearing her mother's voice, screaming at Tali to get away from that-

She shut the door on that memory, shivering faintly. The woman had seemed to pick up on her distress, and gestured. Somehow, the blood of combat seemed to evaporate away from her, or maybe Tali had just been seeing things to see it splattered so liberally over her.

"These weren't the only ones sent to make sure you got to Saren, Ms. Zorah. Saren's other men will be up momentarily, so I suggest we be somewhere else in rapid order."

A fresh coldness gripped the young quarian's gut, "How? The only routes down off this building are by the inner stairs and the fire escape!"

The horned figure nodded, "And Saren's men hold both ways out, and have at least one hover-van coming in." Her eyes flicked past Tali, to the left, where a soft whine was coming closer. "We have to go. Now."

Tali whimpered. She couldn't help it, old enough for a pilgrimage or not, she was just a scared little girl in far too deep over her head. "What do we do?"

"I can get us away, but you'll have to trust me, Tali." By now, the woman had not only cleaned herself, but stood with a confidence that was almost offensive.

She dithered in her mind. On the one hand, she did _not_ want to have to deal with what Saren's men had planned for her. On the other hand, she didn't particularly want to spend much time with this woman who so casually slaughtered eight men in moments.

"A-Alright..."

* * *

Sorry for the long wait, guys, work got me in its grip and I kept rolling Nat-1s on my grapple checks.

I've done some serious editing of the previous couple of chapters, so I suggest rereading them (or the whole fic) to get a better sense of what happened.

This bit has been in production since before Christmas, I had hoped to get it out by then, or at least by New Years Day, but obviously that didn't happen. I hope the exposition, exploration, and the first ripples are enough for you. ^^

A note about language: Jorukaia speaks several D&amp;D languages, including Undercommon, Elven (similar enough to Sperethiel from Shadowrun to be interchangeable, though with an accent), as well as both High and Low Draconic. I'll be using D&amp;D Draconic for High Draconic, as it was never meant to be spoken by humanoid throats, and as such is nigh-unpronounceable. Low Draconic, however, is a bastardized form of High Draconic speakable by lesser races, and bears a striking resemblance to Skyrim Draconic because I actually found a translator for that while doing research. Shoutouts to the guys at Thuum (d0t) Org for their excellent work!


	5. Chapter 5: Rising Winds

**Ripples in the Stream**

A D&amp;D / Shadowrun / Mass Effect crossover by Vyrexuviel

Disclaimer: The author of this story does not, in any way, derive any profit from the story. D&amp;D, Shadowrun and Mass Effect are the property of their respective copyright holders. Jorukaia and other unfamiliar characters in this story, however, are mine.

* * *

"Lotta dead bodies and blood, Chief. Watch your step."

Udina grimaced as he watched the scene through the video feed from Ashley's helmet-cam. They weren't really meant to be used like this, but in a pinch, they'd do. The quality was good enough that it was sufficient to make him regret his large lunch.

Garrus wasn't kidding about the bodies. The entire top of the outside stairwell was covered in gore. "See what you can make out."

"Will do, sir." Williams' voice was a bit tinny, but otherwise perfectly audible. "Whoever did this did it recently, sir. This hasn't had time to congeal yet."

The turian gave a nod, "I'd estimate five to ten minutes, tops."

"Then they might still be there. Find them, if at all possible."

Udina turned at that last order, sending Anderson, who had given it, a glare fit for a drill sergeant, "This is going to be costly in political capital. It seems I can't involve you in anything and have it come up anything but an unmitigated disaster." The barely-restrained fury of the man was very much in evidence, his arms folded tightly, and knuckles white as he gripped his biceps.

"I did my duty as I saw fit, Sir. You can put in a request for a military review of my actions, of course." Anderson wasn't going to give an inch. With Shepard dead, Udina's pet project fell through, and there was nothing the man could do to put the ashes of his dream back into shape. He knew it too, which was probably why he was firing in all directions.

"Wait, got something here. There was someone here, lost a bit of blood. Turian. Right shoulder punctured. That must have taken some work." Garrus' voice cut through to the two men in the Ambassador's office. "See this, Ms Williams?"

The view swung dizzyingly as the Gunnery Chief bent to get a closer look, "Is that a hole in the alloy?"

"Yup. Punched clean through, neat as you please. To judge by the blood splatter, the man was pinned here by that for a bit, then released." His voice dopplered oddly as he moved around, then burst out in a swear, "Damn. Well, here's that missing hand... Aand the other head. Spirits blessed be, whatever did that was some kinda sharp."

"Probably that weapon she used on that cop."

"Probably." Garrus' voice was surprisingly pensive. "No sign of the quarian yet."

"You can stop looking. Uff. W-Would either of you happen to have some distilled water, please? I could use something to drink."

Anderson had glanced aside as the door to Udina's office opened, so he was first to the quarian girl, helping her to a chair and ignoring Udina's look of thunderstruck anger, "Are you hurt, Miss?"

The quarian was splattered with blood, both turian, the bright blue patches, and either human or batarian, the bright red. She moved with a bit of caution, one hand on her stomach, and gave the captain a grateful glance as he seated her. "Tali. Tali'zorah nar Rayya. N-no, just.. just a bit of nausea. She said it would pass." The amount of blood splattered across her was, in the aggregate, tantamount to a body part. It was surprising she was in such firm control of herself. Anderson had seen many civilians break when faced with the realities of combat for the first time.

Udina glared almost malevolently, "Who said it would pass?"

"Her. The one you're looking for. She said she was called...Jorukaia?" That last came out half-lisped, untranslated, and had the two humans shared a startled glance.

* * *

An asari leaned against the rail, peering out the huge window-wall into the interior of the Citadel. To the casual observer, she might have been dressed a bit oddly, wearing a long, flowing robe of shimmery fabric in an archaic but not unfashionable design. She gazed with interested abstraction out the wall, as if what was out there was both intriguing and uninteresting at the same time.

'Stupid, stupid, stupid! You really buggered things up but good there, killing an officer. C-Sec will want you now, not just because you broke out, but because you put one of their best in the morgue!' Joru's internal rant at herself was never betrayed by the impassive face of the asari she wore. 'And to top it all off, you just _had_ to leave that blasted message for Garrus, showing off again. Admittedly, Tali had to get out of there right then, and she'd probably accept your explanation of a short-range, single-use personal mass-corridor better than "yeah, I have wings", but still, you could have done that so much better!'

She frowned, but only slightly, unnoticed by the passers-by, some of whom were giving the tall, slender asari appreciative glances. 'And now you've gone and alienated the people you could have trusted to help you! Cut yourself off from their support, just when you needed it!'

'Still,' she answered back, 'There's always that young asari...' She half turned, lifting a hand and the flicker of an omnitool showing for a moment. An asari face, young, pale, with wide, innocent eyes showing for a moment. It was a sketch, not an actual photo, but fairly good likeness. Another image showed beside it, an actual photo this time, with the legend "Liara T'Soni" next to it. Beneath both of them were the words "Facial Match: 93.6%. Current Location: Therum Mining Site Alpha-371."

'You're trying to find a single girl in the whole damn galaxy, and your only clue is an image pulled from the extranet based on a half-remembered image of a face from outside time itself. Who are you trying to fool, Jorukaia No-Name?'

'Myself, I guess.' The dark-skinned asari pushed away from the wall and made her way towards the stairs down towards C-Sec, though she somehow slipped from notice before she got there. 'Sometimes, hope is like that.'

* * *

Victus was going on dextro-caf and nerves. He'd been formally discharged from the hospital over a day and a half ago, but his partner was still in there, so he hung around. Executor (spirits bless the man) had given him a week off to get his head straight, more than the usual allowance when one's partner was seriously injured.

He'd managed to get his eyes working again just in time to see what that bitch had done to Caestron. He'd _seen_ the knife sticking out of his partner's chest, just below the sternum. He'd managed to get to him before he hit the deck, and already had the medi-gel canister in his hand, shooting the stuff into Cae's wound and screaming over his comms for a medic.

He'd been woozy as fuck for the next few hours, but stayed even after he was out of the doc's clutches. His crest had had a hairline fracture running down most of the length, and hadn't felt really right in the head again until after that had been dealt with.

'Spirits blast the bitch, if Cae dies...'

His head snapped up as a door opened, and he was on his feet before the docs got through. One of them stayed, an asari, giving him a weary, but reassuring nod.

Victus almost passed out from relief, sitting down again and waiting for the nurses to pass. the doc stepped over and laid a hand on his shoulder, "He's out of danger, for now. He could relapse, though, so we'll be keeping him longer."

"How bad...was it?" He didn't really want to know, but Caestron had been like a brother to him ever since his own had died during the cursed Relay 314 incident.

The asari pursed her lips a bit, and let out a sigh, "Bad. Left lung nicked, diaphragm scored, but not severed. Missed the heart entirely, but punctured the stomach. The pain must have been excruciating."

Victus was even more glad now that he'd used medi-gel first. That stuff wasn't normally supposed to get into the digestive tract, but better that than having stomach acids eating your lungs.

"We mended the damage to the lung and stomach, but the diaphragm will have to heal on its own. Quick thinking on your part saved his life."

Victus shifted a bit in his chair, "I'm just sorry I couldn't get the bitch that did it to him."

* * *

The turian watched intently, patient and relaxed at the side of the open space, where a geth platform was undergoing combat analysis testing. Metallic limbs swung, fingers twitched, its compound eye-light twitched back and forth from target to target with inhumanly precise speed. Shots rang in the enclosed area, rapid as automatic fire, a quick three shots there, four in that target, just one into a third, but a kill-shot none the less. Five towering Primes stood against the wall, exchanging data at a furious rate over their tight-beam radio links, acting as a mobile server-hub for the considerable numbers of geth programs involved in the test.

He turned at a nonmetallic footfall near him, glancing with faintly-glowing blue eyes at the asari. She merely gazed at him, her face not rigid, but relaxed as if asleep, one of the signs of growing thralldom. Saren sighed internally. Another potentially useful servant reduced to little more than a biological construct. Still, the thralls did have their uses. There was only one reason why one would approach him at this juncture, they had been given a blanket order to avoid the geth areas of Sovereign.

"Our guest is secured, her chambers made comfortable?"

"Yes, Master." The asari's voice was not flat, but still faintly toneless, "She expressed her desire to speak to the one in charge, Master."

Saren gave a faint sigh, "What were our losses during her acquisition?" There had to have been some.

"One platform destroyed, biotically thrown into magma; no chance of recovery. Three others disabled when she overloaded her portable generator."

He clenched his mandibles and stroked his cybernetic arm. At close range, that would short out much of a Geth's higher processing functions, and they'd need time to reboot using alternate processors. "Were the damaged platforms recovered?"

"No, Master. They were left behind. Sensors detected organic activity near the relay. Haste was considered essential."

Mandibles gritted in anger, "Send a scout craft back to recover or destroy any geth technology. I want no connection to our operations left on that planet."

The flaccid-faced asari gave a faint nod, "It shall be done, Master."

She turned to go, and Saren spent a moment gazing after her and musing. She had once been a high-ranking commando, part of the company that Benezia had sent to him, a peace overture, willing to open a dialog. They had been nosy, suspicious, but willing to talk. He hadn't known that Sovereign had turned up his indoctrination until they started hallucinating, and had decried their usefulness in an undamaged state to his Master.

In vain. Sovereign had, in no uncertain terms, informed him of his subservient status, and that these would be useful tools, no more. It had reiterated its desire for him to seek the Anomaly, without further distractions, and that brought up another thought.

Saren slipped out of the testing chamber and strode down towards Sovereign's main chamber, where a holographic map of the galaxy swirled in endless, real-time representation. Sovereign was powerful, and while it could sense the Anomaly out there, it had never been close enough to it to get a bearing save at one place. He swept his hand through the galaxy, highlighting one star, which swelled to show its system, then zoomed in again on one planet. The legend "EDEN PRIME" appeared to one side, along with the note that the attempted destruction of the colony had failed.

'I failed Master there. Never again.' He gazed at the world, eyes narrow and frowning faintly. His geth had been on-site for only a few hours, but they'd been defeated consistantly only by a single group. An irritated twitch of his fingers brought up a map of the encounter, his geth marked as blue sparks on the orange-and-red landscape. And one other spark was there, marked in blazing yellow-white. Sovereign had been in full retreat, ans was about to access the relay when the Anomaly first manifested itself. Even at that range, it had had enough of a glimpse to mark its location, almost superimposed on the marker indicating the last known location of the Prothean Beacon.

Somehow, had the Protheans left one last trap for their ancient adversaries? Saren's gaze intensified as he gazed at the image, then gave a grunt. He'd have to start by searching through the records, seeing who was on planet at the time, and that could be tedious. Not to mention dangerous, if those fools in C-Sec dug up something they shouldn't, or that windbag Udina's bleating forced the Council into investigating his activities. Still, there was nothing left of his presence on the planet. Yes, they knew the geth had been there, but as far as the rest of the galaxy was concerned, it was just a raid by the Geth to get some prothean tech.

Still, something about that spark seemed to draw his eyes. "Somehow, somewhere, I'll find you. That I promise."

* * *

As is usual with pivotal events in one's life, Aethyta wasn't prepared for hers.

Specifically, she was in the shower when the comm went off.

She growled softly, shut off the water, and rapidly toweled down as much as she could while the comm squealed to itself in the other room. "Alright, alright, I'm coming, blast you."

The face that appeared over the vidplate slapped away any irritation she might have felt at being dragged away from a relaxing passtime. Matriarch Benezia T'soni looked old. Given that she was in her ninth century, she had reason to be, but she looked haggard, almost frantic. Her eyes were wide, the light-blue pupils almost entirely rimmed with white as she stared at her friend.

Her old lover.

"Aethyta. She's gone. Taken."

"Who's gone, what are you talking about, Nezzie?"

"There might not be time. She's been kidnapped!"

"_Who?_ Slow down, for the Goddess's sake, take a deep breath and begin at the beginning."

That seemed to finally get through the older woman's panic-haze "Liara! She's gone, snatched. Please, I can't go myself or I'd be already headed out there. I know we didn't exactly part on the best of terms, but she's your daughter too, Aethyta, you have to help me, help us!"

A cold knot of ice settled into the pit of Aethyta's stomach. Benezia was right, they hadn't parted on the best of terms, but she had undestood Matriarch T'Soni's reasons for ending the relationship so abruptly. They had been several-fold. First the growing political current that didn't want to listen to what Aethyta had to say at the Circle of Matriarchs. They would have moved to silence her if she had stayed, which is why she was in her appartment on Illium. Benezia had been one of the few moderating voices in the Circle, so her distancing herself from Aethyta was a good move, politically. And then there was the fact of their daughter. Liara had not been born at the time when the pair of them broke up, and Aethyta occasionally still wished to meet her daughter.

Now, however... "Where. When. Talk details, Nezzie, I'm going to pack."

She turned, and thus missed the grateful look that the older matriarch gave her, "She's with an archeological dig on Therum. I'm not sure which mine it was, but one of them broke into a prothean ruin. She's part of the archeological team there, and I was having a weekly call when something happened. I _heard_ her being snatched. I heard, heard gunfire. Biotic discharges. Screams. Please, Aethyta, hurry."

"I'll contact my hanger and get my ship skybound as fast as physically possible, but you'll need to get off the line, Nezzie." In a lighter tone, returning to the comm station, she murmured, "It's good to talk to you again, though I wish the circumstances were otherwise."

"I...yes, it is. Go with the goddess's grace, Aethyta. And bring her back." Benezia's eyes seem to burn through the commlink, then she was gone.

Aethyta's fingers were allready tapping out the commcode to the hanger she owned, "I don't care who you are, get me the hanger supervisor- Ahh, good. Get my ship ready to fly as fast as possible"

"B-B-But, ma'am, Ms Shevanna said she was going to do an overhaul!"

"_WHAT?!_"

* * *

"I still say we need to do an overhaul on that port side engine cluster. I could hear the damn thing buzzing the entire trip."

Aethyta sighed and gave a faint nod, "As soon as we get back to a decent port, alright? I just... Needed to get here as soon as possible. You and Aiyata do what you can with it while I'm dirtside, alright?"

"You're just damned lucky I'm a good engineer, Thea." Shevanna gave her old friend a smile. A friend of Aethyta's from back in their wild maiden days, Shev had turned into a very good engineer by necessity, keeping their asteroid-hopper functional despite all the bangs and dents Aethyta's erratic piloting had gotten them into.

Aethyta gave a wry smile as she grabbed up her encounter suit and skinned into it with the ease of much practice. "Yeah. Yeah, I am. Thanks again for keeping the old bucket in one piece, Shev. I'll try to get us back before anything else falls off."

A snort followed her into the airlock, along with a raised voice, "Alright, newbie, you know anything about old-style quarian ion-drive engines?"

* * *

Aethyta's booted feet rang on the metal decking as she raced up to the mine entrance. Why humans insisted on starting from ten or fifteen meters up the side of a steep hill when doing their mining was anybody's guess, but at least the tunnel was fairly smooth and not too steep. She stopped at the end of it, gazing into the depths of a deep, deep chasm, and the wall that ended it across about fifty meters of open space. A smooth, white wall of unknown material that resisted even the infernal heat of molten rock.

She shook her head slightly, glad to have gotten out of the helmet. The atmosphere on Therum wasn't unbreathable, just hot in the extreme, and she could _feel_ her faintly-scaled skin starting to dry and contract. 'Best get this over with.'

She was halfway down the scaffolding when she heard the gunfire.

She quickly glanced over the catwalk, clinging to the side of the rock face, and spotted the trouble. Around a dozen gleaming shapes, most of them between one figure and the walkway up to the elevator, a few more of the metal assailants trying to find flanking shots. The figure seemed to have found herself a nice hole to hide in, an upturned metal table taking the brunt of the fire while her flank was protected by a thick outcropping of basaltic rock.

She was just too damned far away to make out details, but the figure _was_ an asari. Young one, too.

She rushed to the end of the catwalk and threw caution to the wind, leaping off and wrapping her biotics about herself to slow her fall. Even as she did so, she heard a few shots ping off the catwalk and let go her biotic control to drop faster. She landed heavily, but missed a razor-sharp ridge of rock as she landed on the hard floor, rolling behind a rock just as more bullets stitched into the wall behind her.

She heard a voice calling out from across the open space, but couldn't make out the words over the fusillade of fire, which while not loud, was constant. 'Time to do something about that.'

The matriarch waited until she heard a momentary lull in the gunfire, strengthened her Barrier, and rolled out to fire off a Throw at the central group of geth. She managed to catch five of them in the blast, but only buffeted two while three were hurled off their feet.

It took Aethyta several minutes of contemplation, much later in her cabin, to understand exactly what that fight implied. The instant the geth had stopped firing on her position, the girl was in motion. The smooth, controlled grace of a born commando in the prime of her maidenhood, but combined with the precision of a veteran matron, and melded with a speed that Aethyta had never seen. Within three seconds she had literally hacked apart the three geth nearest her and was already en route to the next set when Aethyta's second Throw was followed by the older asari rolling back into cover. The electronic shrieks of the Geth were mingled with the shriek of tortured metal for a bit, before she caught her breath and rolled out again.

Half the geth were down already. Two with their heads severed, and stabs to the torso, two more with their gun-arms removed at the elbow or shoulder, one with a single stab to its midsection, and its backplate blown off as whatever power source they used cooked off. The final one was still twitching and warbling, all four of its limbs hacked off at the joints to the torso, and the girl now huddled against one of the many boulders out in the open with the geth trying to flank her.

Aethyta fired off a Warp at the nearest, followed by a Shockwave at the other, starting to feel the drain. She hadn't eaten well in the day or so since her former lover's frantic call, barely three thousand calories, which for an active asari isn't all that much.

Luckily, she didn't have much else to do. The girl's reflexes were good, blasted good. The girl sprung up and out of cover as if the attack was the result of well-rehearsed coordination. She was across the open space to the warped Geth in a flash, her entire body whirling as she leaped from a low rock and bringing her blade down at the top of its 'head', shearing through it with unbelievable ease. She grunted as the five remaining Geth started to pepper her with shots, dropping prone and scurrying behind a small boulder that wouldn't take much for the geth to get around.

Aethyta managed to crank her jaw back into place quickly enough to summon up a Lift, the mass-negation field catching all the rest of the machines in it. Surprisingly, they kept firing, though their aim became very erratic in the rippling distortions of gravity that encompassed them.

The girl stood, her knife flipped around and before Aethyta could stop her she had thrown it. To the matriarch's surprise, she managed to hit one of the geth despite the distorting effects of an active mass effect field. The geth she hit gave a warbling wail and stopped twitching.

"Great, now how are you going to get that back? Idiot."

The girl just gave her a glance, and as the geth thumped to the ground, a faint smile flickered over her lips. Despite her odd attire, and with at least three bullet holes leaking cobalt-blue blood, the girl seemed to be enjoying this. "Thanks for the assist."

Aethyta just growled at her, and twisted her biotics, sending a Singularity to wipe up the remainder of the Geth, "Never trust to fortune girl, it'll bite you in the ass." She surveyed the girl intently, now that she had the time to do so. Dark blue skin, almost purple, oddly pale golden eyes that hinted at exotic ancestry. No facial markings, which was odd for a maiden as young as this one looked to be, and, on second glance, a network of scars on the outsides of both forearms. 'Defensive wounds. She must have had a hard life.'

"True," the girl stalked over to the dead geth, ripping the blade out of it's throat and tucking it away somewhere. "Name's Jona. Jona Siberys. Thanks again, stranger."

Something about her speech finally clicked home to Aethyta, the girl was speaking English, not High Thessian. She was hearing the girl's talk through her earbuds, not direct. Aethyta cocked her head, "Why aren't you speaking Thessian?"

The girl's gold eyes looked away, "Never learned. Mom died when I was young."

Aethyta winced, but nodded. 'Probably a slavechild. Damn.' "I've got a ship on the surface if you need a lift? Just how did you get here anyway?"

"Hitched a ride. Didn't count on the company." The girl indicated the Geth, "I was looking for someone."

"Oh, who?"

Pale-gold eyes gazed into Aethyta's blue ones, "Youngster by the name of Liara T'soni. You wouldn't happen to know why the Geth kidnapped her, by any chance?"

* * *

AN:

With this chapter, Ripples breaks the 20,000 record. YEE. I am SOOOO sorry for the delay on this, but I found myself rewritting the plot halfway through and had to make some rather severe changes to what I had planned to make things work out the way I wanted. Thanks sooo much to Erratus Enigma for beta-ing this pile of steaming dragondung into something approximating the general vicinity of 'good'. Things will start to snowball from here, but it might take me a while to get the next chapter out.


	6. Chapter 6: Echos of Power

**Ripples in the Stream**

A D&amp;D / Shadowrun / Mass Effect crossover by Vyrexuviel

Disclaimer: The author of this story does not, in any way, derive any profit from the story. D&amp;D, Shadowrun and Mass Effect are the property of their respective copyright holders. Jorukaia and other unfamiliar characters in this story, however, are mine.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Normally I put these at the bottom of the fic, but this time I think I'll drop it up here instead. Holy fuck. I nearly added 50% of the length of this fic with one chapter alone.

With that out of the way, I edited several key scenes in the earlier chapters to account for some changes I made in the storyline, so I highly recommend you go back and reread the entire fic to get them.

As always, my perennial apologies for not getting this done and out sooner. Between my muse going off to poke random things, getting sucked into another fandom and my work being an utter and all-consuming bitch, I'm left with little time to write, and even when the inspiration strikes, I'm often not able to put down on paper what I want to say.

Huge shout-out to Erratus Enigma, my beta-reader for this, without whom I may have already given up on this fic, and who is a typo-catcher bar none.

Hopefully I'll be able to get to the next bits of this sooner than last time, but alas it's not something I can promise. Love you all, and please, if you like it, drop me a review!

* * *

After a moment or two the door opened, the young, almost frighteningly calm asari giving her a glance before stepping back inside and sitting on the edge of the bed. Aethyta took that as consent, and stepped inside, a package of gauze in one hand and some basic antiseptic in the other. A bit low-tech in this day of medi-gel, but better for wounds in the long run.

"Right, let's see 'em." She set the supplies down as Jona gave her an arched eyebrow, but shrugged and removed her shirt, revealing a slight bosom, her belly and torso marred and streaked with numerous scars. Aethyta stilled the impulse to trace one as she checked where the girl bled during their battle.

"You look like you've been through some shit," she murmured, as she started applying a bit of the antiseptic. "Want to talk about it?"

The girl just shrugged, allowing rather than assisting with the ministrations. "I survived. They didn't. End of story."

Aethyta's lips pursed and she sat back, grabbing the gauze and momentarily taking the girl's hand, turning it over to show the network of scars on the outside of her forearms. "This says you've been through a lot. More than I expect is healthy for a girl your age."

The girl's odd, pale-yellow eyes narrowed and she withdrew her hand. "So I've had a hard life. Nothing new about that."

"No, probably not. But I'm curious." She gave a faint smile, starting to bandage the girl's upper arm, where a lucky shot had zipped through the meaty part, just below the left shoulder. "Mind indulging me?"

Jona heaved a sigh, shrugging her other shoulder. "Born a slave, but I bet you figured that out. Don't remember my mother. Learned English from a slave that Master picked up. Don't know how old I am." She hissed faintly as the bandage was pulled tight, but otherwise betrayed no sign of discomfort.

"Master," and the word held pure, condensed loathing, "had me trained as a gladiator."

The older asari paused, giving the girl a startled glance, but Jona ignored it. "Had to fight for my life since as long as I can remember. It's the only thing I know how to do."

The girl held her right arm up obediently for Aethyta to get at the small tear on the right side of her torso. "How'd you escape?"

Jona gave a smirk, "Master had this thing, I don't know what it was, just what it did. He used it to torture the slaves that really pissed him off. They got picked up by it, held, and dropped. They were always gibbering after that. I killed one of his favorite slaves, and he decided to have me punished."

The youngster started pulling her shirt on at Aethyta's direction. "It did the same to me. Dumped all sorts of shit in my head. But it blew up while it was doing it, so I didn't get the full blast. It's all there, just jumbled, I think. Master got so pissed at me he tried to kill me himself." She gave a wicked smile at that point.

"Turns out, he trained me too well. I killed him, and his guards. Killed all the fucking masters, let the slaves out." She paused, looking away. "I had to kill the chipped ones. They couldn't survive without the masters."

Aethyta had to control the almost overpowering urge to hug the girl. If she had actually killed a high-ranking slave-owner, she'd done the galaxy a service, though killing the chipped slaves was...

She was still talking, and Aethyta missed some of it, "- got out. Made it to a spaceport and hid aboard a starship. When the captain found me, I told him what happened, and he took me on as a worker. Paid me and everything when he dropped me off in the Terminus. Spent a couple years looking for work, but also looking for someone to help me get this shit out of my head. I knew it was prothean, but I don't know what it means."

"Prothean? The batarians had a prothean beacon?" She took the girl's shoulders, then turned her head to face hers with one hand on her cheek, staring into Jona's odd eyes, "Tell me straight girl, this master of yours had a prothean beacon?"

Jona pulled away, a faint scowl on her lips, but she nodded. "Yeah, can't think what else it was. Tall, slender, spire-y. Lifted me up and started cramming junk into my head."

'Well, shit, if the kid's telling the truth, that might just be the thing to get the Council of Matriarchs up in arms. If the Batarians are hoarding prothean tech...'

"Do you remember where your master's- your _former_ master's place was?" She hastily corrected herself when Jona shot her a dark look.

The young asari shook her head. "Don't even know what planet it was on."

"Ahh, well, if you ever want to talk about it more, I'll always be there to listen, alright?" At Jona's nod, she smiled. "Good girl. Now, take care not to dislodge those bandages. It won't heal right and will scar if you don't. And I think you've got enough of those."

Aethyta almost missed Jona's comment on her way out the door, "Scars tell you you're still alive. I won't mind a few more."

* * *

Jona glanced about the tiny apartment, standing in the door. A duffle bag was slung over her shoulder, and she was wearing a brand-new dress, bought for her by Aethyta, though she would have preferred a shirt and pants.

The apartment was _tiny_. The bed took up more than three quarters of the available space, and had to be folded into the wall to allow the drawers underneath to be accessed. A tiny little one-person bathroom was built into the other wall, and that was the entirety of the place.

She nodded and glanced at Aethyta, who looked dubious, "It'll do."

"If you're sure, well, alright. I'll keep in touch, check up on you tomorrow."

Jona shrugged and stepped inside, "If you want to."

The repatriation of an escaped slave was common enough on Illium that they had a small office in Nos Astra for the purpose. The girl who worked there was bored most of the time, but when one of her sisters was found, she was happy to help them reorient into society. Council law mandated that all escaped slaves be given a citadel citizen registry ID code, a lump sum payment, and a small monthly stipend for the next two years, as well as free counseling. Failure to do so would have resulted in serious repercussions, so much so that failing to comply would have resulted in very unfavorable trade bans being imposed on Illium by the Council, something which the corporate-minded oligarchical rulers would not tolerate. And so Jona Siberys found herself an official citizen of Council Space, with a four-figure balance in her bank account and another 500 paid out a month.

"You really certain you want this one, Jona? I've seen closets that were bigger."

"I've been in cages too small to turn around in. This will be fine." Aethyta winced, but nodded.

"Alright. Call me if you have any problems, girl."

Jona nodded, stepped into the apartment and let the door shut and lock. She dropped her duffle on the floor, not bothering to pull down the bed, and made absolutely certain that the door was locked, and there were no monitoring devices in here. It was nigh-impossible to get away from them on Illium, but she seemed to have found a place at last that didn't have at least a security camera over the door. Granted the place was tiny, no doubt had problems with the plumbing and probably had no soundproofing at all given the thinness of the walls, but those wouldn't bother her, and it suited her needs.

Jona stripped off the dress, tucking it into her duffle, and, closing her eyes, gave a long, heartfelt sigh of pleasure, as she relaxed her hold on the magics binding her to this shape.

Her spine crackled as she swelled in height by nearly half a meter. A wet, slithery sound, soft and somehow disturbing, followed as the long tail flowed into existence. Fingers- and toe-tips parted as sharp claws emerged. Two of her crest-tendrils raised themselves, lengthened, and took on the hard sheen of bone, while the rest darkened and bifurcated into innumerable strands of hair. A faint rubbing sound accompanied the swelling of her faint dappling of scales into a hide-full of minuscule overlapping plates.

Jorukaia stretched, arching her tail ecstatically, very glad to be back in her native form. She'd held Jona's form so long her body was beginning to forget what it was like to be in its natural state. She dipped to her duffle again, removing her own clothes and changing into them, buckling on her belt and extracting a small, intricate key from one of the pockets.

She turned to the blank wall next to the bathroom, then paused. This was the moment of truth. Either it would work, or it wouldn't. She took a breath, to steady her nerves, and inserted the key into the air above the wall. She twisted, a sharp quarter turn to the right. A door, exactly identical to the one beside it, opened out into the tiny apartment, letting a flood of natural sunlight to fill this space deep inside the building.

Joru let out her gathered breath in a soft sigh of gratitude to whatever gods watched over her. It worked. Her refuge was there. Grinning widely, she grabbed up her dufflebag, and stepped through the door into a small desert-canyon arroyo. She shut the door behind her, and after a moment, it vanished, quietly and without fuss.

The apartment was as she left it, empty and bare, with no sign of where the occupant had gone, and the door locked from the inside. No doubt a pretty puzzle, should anyone happen to have been observing.

* * *

It had been far too long since she'd been up high on a proper planet.

Joru stretched, a luxurious affair, perched on her clawed toes on the rail along the edge as she stretched skyward, letting her tail sway and curl as it would to balance her. She could -feel- the clicks as her spine realigned. She'd been stuck as Jona for far too close to the limit of her power for her comfort, and that always came with a bit of a price. She had spent nearly ten hours in her refuge, luxuriating in a boiling-hot bath, then practicing with her combat dummies for an hour, and even sleeping for a couple hours on her own firm bed.

It had felt so very very good to be home. She wondered when she started thinking of the Refuge as home, but it didn't really matter. The place _was_ her home, had been designed as such by a very very old friend of hers, as a heartfelt thank-you for all the good deeds she had done for him and his line.

'At least I still have my home.'

But there was something else that she needed right now, other than the stretch. She grinned in anticipation as she gazed off, the elation over finding her refuge still intact and as she left it still sizzling through her veins. The Illium sun burned red at the very limit of the horizon. The darastrix let out a soft little groan as she shifted, a pulse of darkness flaring from both shoulders and rapidly coalescing into two huge wings, formed of solidified shadow, that stretched to a full six meters as the dragoness arched her back in ecstasy.

It had been far too long since she'd had a proper flight.

With a joyful whoop, she let herself fall from the high place, her shadowy pinions folding as she gained speed, the immense wings beating faintly as she fell, first past darkened windows, then lit ones, twisting her tail and angling herself away from the building as it began to tier outwards, vanishing past a brightly-lit balcony and its startled occupants.

'Time to show these sleepy complacent sheep that a hunter still lives and breathes in their skies.'

Her wings flared with a pulse of magic, her voice lifting in a hunting cry that was more bestial than human, peeling out of the dive and into a series of soaring arcs as her powerful wings beat once, twice, thrice. Rippling waves of shadow buoying her aloft in a freedom that only the birds know. The stream of twinkling lights that was an air car lane came into view as she pulled a tight arc around a building, ignoring the cattle on the edge, and a wide grin spread across her lips.

'Why the fuck not?' With a flick of her tail, the dark shape turned over and arrowed down towards the stream of air cars, letting loose a high, screaming howl of delight.

* * *

Claire's darling girl was reading her favorite book, an antique from the pre-spaceflight days, entitled "Flight of Dragons". She was a good girl, sweet, but always asking questions, and so often lost in fantasy worlds that her mother wondered if it wasn't start time to ween her daughter off those sorts of fanciful tales. Claire was driving her daughter back from a birthday party for one of her friends and lightly tapping her hands on the air car controls as she listened to her music.

"Mommy?"

Claire blinked and looked up at her daughter through the mirror, but surprisingly, the little girl wasn't looking at her book, but instead looking out the side window of the car. "What is it honey?"

"When did the dragons come back?"

Claire blinked. That was not the question she was expecting. "What do you mean, sweetie? Dragons aren't real."

Krysten pointed at something out the window, "Then what is she?"

She was utterly unprepared when _something_ knocked on the window beside her, drawing her eyes to the huge, winged _thing_ outside the car and clearly keeping up with them despite Claire's instinctive flooring of the accelerator. The figure gave her a wide, toothy grin, slid back and winked at her darling little girl before peeling out with a sudden snap of her wings. It arced first up, then over the car and speeding forward with multiple beats of those huge pinions, the long tail swaying and flicking behind her as she raced forward, weaving between air cars with ease.

Claire realized she had screamed only when Krysten asked her mommy what was wrong.

* * *

Jona Siberys grimaced ever so slightly as she noticed a news report about a large flying creature that had been spotted diving through a traffic-stream last night, and lifted her glass. She had found this place earlier in the day, but it had been dead and empty at the time. She glanced over at the news vid again. Perhaps she shouldn't have let herself get so deeply into the thrill of flying again, she'd definitely been seen and not just by individuals who wouldn't report what they saw because it was unbelievable.

A glance about the bar told her she was in no danger of being accosted. She wasn't the only asari in here, but the only other one was a scarred old veteran commando over in the corner, chatting with a krogan and a salarian. She let the harsh liquor roll around in her mouth, somewhat relieved that in this form her sense of smell was slightly blunted.

She put the empty on the bar and tapped beside it for the bartender's attention. As the turian poured her another, she asked, "Where might a girl go to find a little action around here." She tilted her head towards the vidscreen, which had finished the news report and had returned to the normal program. It showcased an asari martial-arts tournament, though the current bout was between two humans.

"Hmm?" The turian glanced up, then arched a brow at Jona. She met his gaze, frank and hard. "Ehh. I guess you're in luck, if you like that sort of thing."

"Oh?" She knocked back a slug of the heavily alcoholic beverage, feeling the mild burn as it slid down her throat.

He refilled her glass again as she set it down, "Yeah, the Eclipse are holding a tournament tonight. I think you might be in time to catch the start of it, if you went soon."

"Tell me about it?" She knocked back the rest, missing the turian's wince. The girl had already had more than he would have believed possible for an asari to drink and still be conscious.

The bartender shrugged, "It's a tournament. contenders do trials, and if Eclipse think you're good, you get put in the roster."

"Heh, sounds fun. Where's it at?" She arched a brow as he slipped her an OSD.

"Told them I'd let interested parties know where to find a good time." He winked at her, then turned to serve another customer down at the end of the bar.

Jona rolled the glass between her fingers a while. On the one hand, a fight was just what she needed, but she also had to keep a fairly low profile, and her flight last night hadn't exactly helped with that. She'd caught a few bulletins about the escaped alien fugitive, armed and dangerous on the vidfeeds. They were starting to expand the search to include areas outside the Citadel now, and one of the first places they had gone was Illium. It made her wonder if showing herself to that little girl hadn't been a good idea, but she'd seen the girl's book and just _had_ to put a bit of wonder into the girl's life. Magic was a gift to be treasured, like water in the desert.

Still... She knocked back the drink, letting it burn its way down her throat with a soft sigh, and set it on the bar. Getting up, she noticed the asari watching her with calculation, and nodded her head respectfully to the older woman as she slipped out the door.

A fight was as good as a fuck, and right now, she needed something to blow off a little steam.

* * *

Jack hadn't felt this good in _ages_. Her fist smashed into the asari's arm, the sound of the crowd mingling with her own cries of effort and exhilaration. She lived for this shit.

She pressed the attack, following up with a lighting left jab and low body blow with her right. Both strikes were parried, though not without cost, she _felt_ the girl's gasp as her second blow drove into the asari's belly at a glancing angle.

Jack lashed out with a roundhouse kick but her opponent was already dancing away, rubbing her belly and giving Jack a venomous look. She gave a focused cry as she brought her arms forward in a textbook move, her intention as plain as if she had sent a written essay, and launched a Warp at the human.

The human biotic gave a wicked grin and slashed her arm back, sending a Shockwave in return that blew the unprepared asari off her feet and into the wall behind her.

Jack didn't hesitate, and had no use for mercy. She pounded the snot out of the girl, landing three solid blows to her upper torso before she was wrenched away by the Stasis field from one of the referees. She suppressed a snarl and gave a curt nod to the old asari. She'd behave.

Jack turned, ignoring the asari helping her friend onto a stretcher. Jack flexed her right hand, grinning a bit as she glanced up at the crowd She'd felt something give under that last blow, but hadn't cared a whit. She'd been in that zone, that state where even pain felt good, with nothing but the urge to _hurt_ driving her onward.

Her eyes met pale yellow ones, odd in such a dark-skinned asari. She was leaning against the rail at the top of the enclosed pit-like area the fights took place in, and something about her caught Jack's attention.

Jack paused, giving the asari a steady glare in return. Her obvious challenge was deflected as if it were trivial, the pale-eyed asari glancing to the asari now being rushed out the side door, then back to the human. She was clearly amused, the crook of her smile said that, but the faint, approving nod she gave at Jack both made the human's heart soar, and inflamed her hatred.

How dare this bitch think she could pass judgment on her abilities? She was just some lookie-loo, a prissy, stuck-up bitch with too much money and time on her hands, who got her kicks by watching bitches beat the shit out of each other.

Jack gave a derisive snort and tossed her head, raising both hands to the crowd, but really at the asari. Her meaning was plain: 'come and get some, bitch, if you think you're bad enough'.

That same damned amused smirk touched the girl's lips, and her head tilted to one side. Amusement gleamed in her eyes a moment, then one dark-blue eyelid fluttered down in a wink, one finger raised in a "wait" gesture.

Jack grinned wickedly and stalked off, pleased with herself. She'd show that bitch what-for in the ring, later. For now, she'd better collect her winnings for this fight. She'd placed a few bets with a few people about the outcome of the fight. Not that she'd win, she never bet on a sure thing, but on how long it took her to beat the tar out of the snot-nosed wannabe who should go back to hide behind her mamma's skirts for another few centuries.

* * *

She'd been out cold when the dark-skinned asari had her first bout, but heard all about it from one of her friends in the crowd when she got back. Lucky fucking bitch had managed to get her in a headlock and Jack was still smarting from the indignity of being put to sleep.

Apparently Dark-Blue had went up against a krogan in her first match, and hadn't just managed to survive, but actually win, if on a technicality. Jack was impressed, it wasn't often you ran across a newbie fighter with the skill and smarts enough to go toe-to-toe with a krogan and come out of it with all your teeth. Not only that, but apparently the girl had made it to the finals while Jack was out to lunch, so she had to be good, not just lucky.

But now, the girl was up against a Sisterhood Initiate, and Jack was looking forward to it. No matter who won, Jack was going to be feeling good. On the one hand, the dark-blue bitch probably had it coming to her to get her ass broken. On the other, the Eclipse sure hadn't given Jack any love. They didn't want her kind, and had made it fucking clear that even if she won the tourney, she wasn't getting into Eclipse, even if she fucked the entire leadership until they screamed.

Not that she wanted to, she had other arrangements, but the condescending bitches needed to be taught a lesson.

Luckily, Dark-Blue looked to be ready to give this initiate a run for her money.

* * *

Joru was breathing steadily. She'd taken a blow to the upper abdomen from that damned krogan before she'd gotten him back at range, but her disrupted breathing was back on an even keel now.

He'd managed to do more damage than she'd thought him capable of, and that headbutt of his was like being run over by a truck, but she'd managed to break away and put him on his ass with a well-timed kick. And once a krogan goes down, he _stays_ there unless you're monumentally stupid.

This fight, however, was going to be interesting. Her eyes glittered as she surveyed the lithe, graceful asari going through a series of stretches on the far side of the ring. The asari had a slight advantage in reach while she was in this form, but Joru enjoyed the edge in stamina, strength and speed, though she hadn't displayed those quite to their fullest yet. The best she had done was to show that she could take quite a beating from a krogan and come back to put him down.

She honestly hadn't meant to break his legs, that was just stupid over-excitement on her part.

The sight of the asari performing a quick series of flips and arches drew her attention back to her opponent. Ashira was an initiate of the Eclipse Sisterhood. She'd been good enough to get a place among the Sisters, but hadn't been fully trained up to their standards yet.

Joru was honestly looking forward to seeing how good she was.

* * *

Ashira tried to suppress a glare at the odd, dark-skinned asari. Bitch wasn't impressed in the least. Ashira ground her teeth as she finished off a rigorous display of gymnastic performance. It wasn't strictly necessary, though it did get the kinks out.

The bitch hadn't even bothered with a warm-up. True, this wasn't her first fight, but she'd get a knotted muscle or something sometime and be a sitting duck, while Ashira made sure to limber up before every fight, to avoid just that potential hazard. 'Her loss, then.'

She stepped to the line at the direction of the referee, giving a grin as she and the asari took their places.

She was looking forward to wiping the floor with this upstart.

* * *

The first few clashes disabused Joru of any sort of doubts of the quality of her opponent. She grinned in delight, finding herself having to stretch herself a little to hit the girl. She was fast, agile and clever.

Joru backed off after a particularly viscous strike at her right side, high up under her arm. She rubbed it a moment, then gave a grin at her opponent, who was bouncing lightly from foot to foot. "Nice hit."

The initiate just grunted and came for her, spinning into a roundhouse kick that was so clearly telegraphed that Joru didn't even bother deflecting, just ducked forward and slammed in with a shot at the girl's thigh.

* * *

Ashira nearly fell over at that blow. The bitch was fast, she gave her that, having to hop on one leg while she stretched and massaged the other. The damned bitch wasn't even trying to make the most of her situation, and after a moment or two, the numbing blow started to fade.

Dark-blue just watched, her pale eyes glittering a bit as she slowly paced, ignoring the catcalls as Ashira stretched her leg and flowed back into a combat stance. With a grin and a toss of her head 'what was that about?' Dark-blue slid into another combat stance, different than any Ashira had seen.

Despite herself, Ashira was intrigued. Dark-blue had proven herself both resilient and powerful, but this poked at her curiosity.

She'd just have to do some _rigorous_ testing to find Dark-blue's breaking point.

* * *

Jack whistled softly as she leaned against the railing. The two had only clashed twice, then had gone into a rapid-fire blitz. Jack couldn't follow all of it, it was too fast, but the taller asari had the edge in reach, especially with the way she was putting Ah'ziha to work for her. The asari martial art was mostly focused on using the legs for offense and blocking with one's arms.

Dark-blue on the other hand, was having none of that. She favored her arms both for blocking and defense, and on one occasion managed to turn a deflection into a grab that the initiate only managed to get out of by balancing on one hand and kicking out with her other leg to break Dark-blue's hold on her ankle.

Jack was grinning wickedly as both asari squared off again. The look on the initiate's face was priceless.

* * *

She was getting pissed. This girl had to be toying with her. She spun into a rapid series of kicks, her limberness allowing her to strike twice and three times, but she growled as each strike was deflected.

The other asari was _grinning at her_, as if she were some sort of _amateur_. 'Screw you, bitch.'

She gathered herself, took two running steps and leaped, striking out at her target with a well-aimed kick.

Her eyes widened as the girl's hands snapped up and _caught_ her shin, far faster than she'd let on.

* * *

Joru grinned wickedly as she caught the now staggering asari's leg, holding her shin up at an awkward angle, almost at head-height. One hand was gripping her ankle, the other just below the knee, forcing her into an unbalanced split.

Her grin turned into a snarl as the girl finally wised up and hammered a blow into her side with a fist, just above her hip, where the exposed skin left her unprotected.

She dropped one hand, the one at the knee, and swept that arm down even as she _tugged_ with the other.

* * *

Ashira didn't know whether to scream or cry. Her leg was wrenched savagely as she pulled into a sort of skittering hop. She struck again and again at the same place, hoping she was doing enough damage to make the bitch pay for this humiliation.

She managed to get her ankle free from that iron grip and winced a bit as she tested her weight on it. Bruised for certain, but otherwise fine. She glared daggers at the other asari, limping a little as she got used to the pain in her ankle.

"You'll pay for that, bitch!"

"Make me."

* * *

The strikes at her side had been painful, but not too damaging, though she knew she was starting to bruise there. She dropped into a combat crouch as the other asari tested her ankle, then twirled forward and brought her leg down in an overhead smash that was easily deflected. The girl then did something unexpected. She lashed out with her biotics.

* * *

'Gotcha, you damned bitch.' Dark-blue sailed across the ring to bounce off the far wall. She wobbled a bit and shook her head, then glared at Ashira.

'Thought I was a pushover, huh?' Ashira settled back into a combat stance, one that maximized her ability to dodge rather than optimized for strikes. Biotic energy laced down her arms to gather around her open hands. One she lifted, and made a 'come on' gesture at Dark-blue.

She was met with a worrying grin.

* * *

Joru was having so much _fun_ with this one. Her wide grin kept breaking out as she spun and whirled, dodging blast after blast. It was just like practice back on the training floor, dodging arrows from the enchanted archer.

One grazing blast spun her around rapidly and she rubbed her hip as she fell into a slithering skid to avoid another blast. A second caught her when she rolled to her feet, smashing her into the padded wall of the arena. Her left arm shot out to brace herself, and she blinked in some fascination at the sight of her fist emerging from the hole in the padding when she freed herself again.

'Got to be more careful, Joru, don't let them see something they shouldn't.'

The third blast to clip her however, wasn't a Throw. The searing pain as the Warp burned along the length of her bicep and tore a patch of skin off her shoulder made her give an aborted cry, almost a roar, as the upstart asari gave a crow of satisfaction.

'Right, no more miss nice dragon.'

* * *

The power sung through her, rippling on the razor edge of control, and Ashira reveled in it. She sent another bolt of biotic energy blasting after the spinning whirling target, following her Throw with a Pull, on the heels of which chased a Warp. A large section of the padding was blown off the wall in a spray of foam shards when both biotics impacted near-simultaneously, but her target was nowhere near the point of impact.

She was caught completely by surprise when Dark-blue fired off a Shockwave at her from somewhere in the hailstorm of foam pieces.

* * *

Joru had no idea at first what she had done. At one moment she was just taking the usual combat stance, the next a wave of blue energy had rippled up from her torso, down her arm and expelled in a blast of unfocused biotics from her upraised palm.

'Well, that was unexpected.' She watched as Ashira took a turn at bouncing off the walls, a grin touching her lips. 'She wants to play rough, two can try it.'

* * *

The biotics flew thick and fast after that, but it was clear that Dark-blue had no idea how to use them. Still, Jack was impressed with her power. 'Girl must have insane stamina to keep overpowering her biotics like that. If she's not careful she'll burn out, and that Sister is no pushover.'

A particularly vicious combination of Stasis and Warp narrowly missed blowing Dark-Blue in half, and Jack gave a little cry of encouragement to the darker asari as her return blast-wave of unfocused biotics sent the Sister to slam into the wall again.

"Yeah, that's right, show the cunt who's boss!"

* * *

She was better than this. She had been trained by the best and gone through hell to get the skills she had. She wasn't going to let some one-century punk-ass _kid_ beat her at her own game!

Ashira summoned her biotics, popping up a Barrier just in time to counter another of the kid's blasts. 'Seriously, it's like she has no idea what to do with the power!'

She'd been bounced off the wall twice by those overpowered shockwaves though, so she knew the raw power of her opponent. She'd have to do something about that. But Ashira herself had all the skill in this engagement. The kid clearly had no idea how to use her biotics effectively. It was like watching a baby throw a tantrum, admittedly one with more power than the older asari expected.

Instead of renewing her long-ranged assault, she dropped into a different combat stance, something that provoked a tilt of the head from the stupid punk _kid_.

She lit her fist with an aura of blue energy. "Right, Bitch. Time to teach you a real lesson."

* * *

Joru grinned and lifted her hands. She focused her newfound energy, trying to do what the other asari had done. She frowned momentarily as the energy failed to do more than flicker, but she had no time to try again, as the girl was flying at her. A blast of blue energy had shot down her leg and launched her at the "young asari" with a yell.

'Really, she needs to work on her warcry,' Joru thought, just before the asari's fist crashed into her upraised arm like a freight train.

Joru was knocked back, gasping in pain as the impact left her left hand numb. 'Right, don't do that again.'

The asari crowed in delight, but it was cut short as Joru swept a leg around, catching her in the back of the knee and knocking her down, where a roundhouse caught her just on the shoulder, rather than in the head as Joru had aimed.

The young asari quickly rolled to her feet, snarling and turning the roll into a spinning roundhouse kick that Joru neatly dodged by bending backward and snapping one of her own legs up to catch Ashira's second strike. Joru bit down on her tongue hard as her knee was smashed by the biotically-amplified strike, cracking the patella and knocking her enough off-balance to send hear heavily to the floor. The asari completed her spin to wind up back on her feet while Joru had to use her undamaged right leg to get back on her own feet.

Joru was seething now. That had fucking _hurt_. First her forearm, then her shin. She had underestimated how strong this little girl's biotics were. She wouldn't make that mistake again.

Her eyes narrowed as she kept her gaze on the asari, rubbing the outside of her left forearm and carefully testing her leg. 'Time to let a little bit loose.'

* * *

Ashira was confused, and more than a bit angry. That blow should have broken the bitch's leg, and her biotically-enhanced fist should have left the girl's arm a mangled, gory mess!

Something was wrong here, and Ashira wasn't sure it was her.

The bitch came at her again, no words this time, just a cry that turned into a full-throated roar as Ashira had to block again and again against fists that slammed in like hammer-blows.

She ducked and wove, but her training wasn't adequate to block everything, not when the bitch seemed to be favoring her fists and ignoring her longer legs.

She tried again to widen the gap, to bring another kick in for a knockout blow, but both times she tried the bitch merely stepped with her, as if anticipating the move.

She didn't quite manage to get her head out of the way of the incoming blow in time, and staggered back as the impact broke two of her teeth and sent a spray of blood flying.

* * *

Joru watched the spray of blood, fascinated as always by the substance. She had landed a solid blow to the girl's jaw, after a flurry that had been longer than she had expected. The girl knew how to block, that was certain, though she had been careful not to fully exert herself.

The scent of blood, hot, raw and sizzling, was intoxicating to her. The way it seemed to hang in the air, the sheen of it, the deep-blue color of cobalt-based blood. She could spend hours waxing loquacious about the way the life-giving liquid seemed to focus her senses.

She staggered back as a blow to her ear made her head ring, then fell to one knee as dizziness overcame her momentarily. One kick to the head became two, the asari's second blow catching her low on the jaw.

The noise of the crowd seemed to dull. She saw the sawdust-strewn floor before her. Saw the splatter of blood. Her blood. The scent was heavy in the air now.

The beast awoke.

* * *

Jack was the first to see it. Something in Dark-Blue's demeanor changed when the blood first flew. She had gotten distracted and the return kicks had put her down hard.

Jack had an idea of what was going through the girl's mind. The scent and sight of blood did things to her, even this long after she had gotten out of that hell she had been raised in.

She always got excited in a fight, but blood... Blood spoke to her deep in her hind-brain, tweaked the animal instincts, and made her even more violent.

She winced a bit as the darker asari let loose a howl as she charged the startled asari. 'Fuck. Sister's in for it now.'

* * *

Ashira drew back to deliver the finishing blow. She felt exhilarated, blood singing and power raging. She paused, letting the biotics blaze around her lower leg a moment. It was pure showboating, and it cost her.

The deep, guttural roar from the young asari broke her concentration, and the hammer-blow that slammed into her exposed belly won the match.

All the rest was just brutal savagery.

* * *

Joru smelled blood. Thick, sweet and metallic, it hung around her like a miasma, driving her beast insane.

She struck hard and fast, one knife-hand strike buried into the girl's belly, driving the breath from her lungs and opening a wound with sheer force. A brutal left hook smashed the girl's head sideways and knocked her on her side. Another blow broke the young asari's knee, shattering her kneecap and bending the joint backwards.

She kicked a raised hand with enough force to break the ulna in two places, and brought her heel down on the girl's unprotected side between hip and rib-cage hard enough to cause organ damage.

The monster in dark-blue asari clothing dropped to one knee, pinning her victim to the sawdust and bringing one fist in with an overhand smash into the helpless asari's face.

Blood flew as the septum shattered, and Joru smiled as screams filled the air.

* * *

Jack watched, awed. That dark-blue girl had one hell of a fighter in her, and biotics or no, the sister she'd been fighting was no match for her.

'Damn. If I had gone up against her, I might be bleeding like that too.'

Dark-blue seemed to relish the screams as she caught one flailing arm and expertly broke the elbow backwards, pulling hard and dislocating the shoulder as well. Jack winced a bit as the Sister's screams went up a notch.

* * *

'Just what the fuck _was_ she?' She was no asari, Ashira had that finally figured that out. This _thing_ was too strong, too fast, and had far too much stamina to be anything other than a freak.

Through the pain and blood and the ringing disorientation of a massive concussion, she saw the bitch raise a fist, saw the blue biotic glow wrap itself around her hand.

Both her arms had been disabled by this monster, one leg was useless, and the other pinned. She couldn't stop that blow from striking.

'Goddess above, I'm going to die...'

* * *

Jack's head snapped to the side as one of the referees, finally waking to the fact that lethal force was about to be used, acted just barely in time to save the sister's life. The Asari matron gave a shout, and whipped a hand forward, instantly followed by two more, wrapping both combatants in Stasis fields.

The roar of rage from the darker of the two asari was something of a shocker, as was the fact that she was _struggling_ in the restrictive field. Jack had been impressed by her strength, now she was a little intimidated by it.

With three veteran commandos at work, though, there was no way she was going to get away, and the dark-blue asari was forcibly hauled off her opponent, who was quickly attended to by medical staff held on hand for just such occasions.

Jack's face was a study in disappointment and annoyance. 'Fucking prissy blue bitches, just when it was going to get really good.'

* * *

It took Joru a very long time to calm herself down. Once her beast was roused, it tried to get control for as long as it could, something that could be useful in an extended battle, but not useful in the _here_ and _now_. She struggled, fought, and waged war within her psyche as she forced her bestial aspect back into the cage of willpower she had forged for it all those centuries ago.

Still it howled, a presence in the back of her mind, demanding blood, demanding carnage. She could ignore it, with difficulty, but the repeated attacks on the locks she had warded it with were more distracting.

She returned her attention to her external surroundings to find herself confronted by an asari in full battle-dress, the black-and-gold of an Eclipse Sister a dark and plain statement of power, standing almost toe to toe and looking down at the younger asari. 'Yes, I'm an asari, a good little sister, there is no blood, no need for violence yet.'

"-pulled you off, they'd be picking pieces of her skull out of the floor. You forfeit the prize money, we explicitly stated no fatal blows, and if that one had landed, you'd be in deep shit." The asari leaned down, her thunderous expression really rather good, though Joru had been interrogated by far better expects of that art than this girl.

"Do you understand me, girl?"

"Perfectly." She modulated her voice almost as an afterthought. She'd nearly forgotten how, with her bestial side hogging all her attention. It still howled for slaughter even in the back of her mind, an insistent tone in the background. 'You will be ignored.'

"Good." The Eclipse soldier straightened, and was about to add something, when she snapped her head to one side and raised one gloved hand to her earpiece, "One second."

The asari froze a moment while Joru waited. "Are you serious?"

Whatever she heard tore a string of foul oaths from her in High Thessian, which Joru noted for later reuse.

"Right. Fuck." She turned to the assembled people of various species, "Alright, listen up. Any one of you that wants to earn a bit of extra cred, follow me, the rest..." Her gazed swept the onlookers, "Get out."

That started some moving, but the rest just sat, frozen. She turned away contemptuously, "We've got Blood Pack incoming."

"You." The angry asari's eyes fixed on Joru, a smirk tugging up one corner of her thin mouth. "You're gonna work off your debt. Someone get her a gun, she's gonna be on the front lines."

* * *

Enyala smirked as the chosen meat-shields were issued equipment and told where to go. The bridge was a main thoroughfare between tower-complexes, so it saw some fairly heavy cargo traffic in both directions. Or at least, it had, before the Blood Pack moved into that sector and pretty much strangled all trade going out of their area that they didn't get a significant cut out of.

That had been three years ago, and now the bridge more resembled no-mans land than a trade route. Multiple turret emplacements had been set up to help curtail the increasingly antagonistic blood Pack forays into their territory, and the bridge made a natural chokepoint. The majority of its length was clear and open, with strategically placed crates, filled with old broken equipment for ballast, set up for defense. The 'Pack had done something similar on their end, but with manned emplacements instead of automated turrets.

Enyala shrugged slightly at that. Turrets didn't need bathroom breaks.

"Get your asses out there, you're being paid good cred for this, so make the most of it!" She always did enjoy bossing around the fresh meat. And then there was That Girl.

Enyala had seen what she did to Ashira. The poor girl was gonna be in traction for a while, what with both arms shattered. She was lucky to still be alive, the older Sister had to have been asleep to let the damage get that bad. The dark-skinned asari had turned down their offer of a heavy pistol, saying she had her own, and hadn't asked for armor, so Enyala hadn't even gotten to tell her off for trying to get such valuable equipment.

She was looking forward to seeing the girl get splattered. Served the bitch right for daring to strike down a Sister.

* * *

The plan was a simple one. First, the vorcha with rocket launchers would send a mass 'care package' to take out the automated turrets, and hopefully the stronger hard-points on the far end of the bridge. Next, the charge would happen, with the big, hulking merc leading the way. Third, if all went according to plan, they'd start rampaging at will among the skinny, weak asari bitches and show them that the Blood Pack was not to be trifled with.

Wrex shifted his considerable weight as Jakord went over the plan again, hammering it into the stupid vorcha's heads that they'd get the first shot at the enemy, but only if they kept their heads and _only_ fired when the Chief gave the word.

"Any of you pyjaks let loose before I say so, and I'll nail you to a wall and let you bleed out, got it?"

There was a chorus of hisses and nods. Most of the vorcha here had nothing more than small-arms, but a few had managed to cobble together some flamethrowers that were slightly more dangerous to the enemy than the user, and a dozen or so had some of the fully-charged rocket launchers they had confiscated from the local smaller arms-dealers.

"Right, good. So, you ready to go smash some heads?" that last had been aimed at Wrex, who shifted off the wall he had been leaning against.

"Been ready for a while." He'd been paid well for this. Well, as good as 'be the sharp pointy tip of the metal bits we stick in the enemy' got, at any rate, and they had, somewhat surprisingly, paid him in advance. He should probably have demand more, but ehh. He wasn't planning on being on this planet long, not once his broker got back to him about that job out in the Traverse.

Jakord grinned at the red-crested krogan and gave the shouted order to move out.

* * *

Joru sighed softly, checking and rechecking her weapon's readouts and wishing she had a proper smartlink setup. As it was, the gun's physical readouts looked fine, but having to check her omnitool every time she wanted to see how many shots she'd fired was going to be annoying.

The asari next to her was clad in some light armor and was checking her own gun with similar intensity, though shooting glances at Joru's own weapon. "Hey, what sort of gun is that, anyway? I haven't seen one like it."

"Old model." Joru slid another two rounds into the magazine, feeling them click into place, and added two more, tucking the last back into her belt as it wouldn't fit. 'Full load, good.'

"What sort of model?" It was probably just the asari's nerves making her talk to diffuse tension, but Joru gave a faint smile.

"Something I picked up out in the terminus. Old-style chemical propellant. Probably not that good against shields, now I think on it."

The asari gave a soft snort, "Yeah, unless that thing's got a wicked huge payload, it's gonna do fuck-all against a charging krogan."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Joru smothered a grin. "I've put holes in steel plates with this baby."

The asari's reply was drowned out by the scream of missiles slashing overhead to smash into the hardened shields protecting the exposed turrets. Each of the four turrets was struck by two missiles in rapid succession, enough to batter down their defenses, and before they could reinitialize the shields, a third missile streaked in to deal significant damage.

Joru sighed as she heard the roar from the other end of the bridge, almost felt the steel decking underfoot tremble as the hoard rushed towards them. The asari turned pale and rolled around to peek, giving a startled yip as bullets shot past her.

Despite herself, Joru was grinning widely.

* * *

Urdnot Wrex had been through a whole lotta shit in his life, but this fucking asari was a new one on him. The first few of them hadn't been tough, more kids playing at soldier than anything else. The turrets had been dealt with flawlessly, which made him a bit twitchy. Something that good coming from a vorcha was usually counterbalanced by some form of shit hitting the ventilator.

He didn't have to wait long to find out what it was. The resistance on the bridge itself thickened up wonderfully, and he was having a good time fighting his way through. The Blood Pack was coming in behind him, but he'd been hired to break through the resistance to let the 'Pack mop up and expand the breach he caused. It was unusual to hire a merc to do that, especially for the 'Pack, but something about their last three champions dying on this bridge probably had something to do with it.

But Wrex was no ordinary krogan. Gifted both with biotic power and a damned good sense of when to hit the deck, he managed to use cover and kept his cool while advancing across the killing box the Eclipse had made. A blazing-blue biotic Throw smashed a hole in their lines, and a followup Carnage shot from his heavily customized shotgun put several of them down for good. He grinned as he stepped over the first corpses, only to get blasted nearly off his feet by a shockwave from an asari he had missed.

He had to hand it to the bitch, she had a quad on her, going up against a Battlemaster with only her biotics. Still, a job's a job, and he'd been paid in advance. He pointed his shotgun her way and let loose with another Throw, sending her hurtling over a line of low crates that had been hastily set up as a firing line. He charged after her, shotgun barking to cover the advance of the blood pack coming up behind.

He caught one glimpse of her, flat on her back as he sailed overhead. His reflexes and instincts were finely honed from centuries of surviving, and he managed to rip up a Barrier, just before the thunderous crash of that antique firearm belched fire and a fairly massive slug pounded its way into his Barrier. If he had been a half-second late, he'd be singing soprano, armor or no.

He spun as he landed, the girl's gun, comically oversized for someone her size, giving another of those cacophonous crashes. The bullet bounced off his barrier with a whine that made him flinch. His own much more modestly loud weapon gave a bark of its own, barely managing to miss as she rolled quickly to her feet.

Not quickly enough. His hand grabbed her by the arm and hurled her away far enough for his shockwave to blow her into the railing at the side of the bridge. A section of it broke, bending at one side as the asari smashed into it hard enough to break her spine.

'Too bad, she had spunk.'

* * *

He was nearly to the far side of the bridge, hunkering behind cover when a cry from a vorcha to his right saved his eye. The scrawny asari bitch was back.

He managed to barely draw back from the first of the smashes she aimed at his head with that length of railing, starting to drive him out of cover as the asari smashed at him.

The whistle of metal far too close to his head was followed by a shriek of rage from a vorcha. He managed to draw back and get his bearings long enough to see that the asari bitch, who _should_ have been dead or at least paralyzed tearing out a vorcha's throat with the sharp end of the length of railing, giving it a spin and hammering it into his chestplate hard enough to stagger him and crack his armor.

Wrex had had had a lot of shit thrown at him, and this wasn't the first time he'd been driven back by an asari. He retreated one step, two, as the asari's onslaught neatly overextended her. "Night night, girl."

His shotgun roared from the hip. He had been expecting the blue ripples of a barrier, but he was genuinely surprised when a fist-sized chunk of flesh at her side exploded outward in a spray of cobalt gore. "So focused on killing me you're not even shielding? Girl, you're gonna die fast."

He didn't get a reply, only a wordless snarl of fury as her weapon flashed with liquid speed, neatly smashing his wrist with the butt-end of the impromptu spear. He gave a roar of pain and rage as his gun clattered to the decking, and charged into her, grabbing with both hands.

It was a mistake.

He caught one up-close look at her face, and suddenly realized he wasn't fighting an asari, he was fighting a beast in asari shape. Her eyes were large, pale-yellow, her skin a dark blue, almost purple. Her face was contorted in an expression of rage and effort, and he realized that the scenery around her was shifting only when she turned her head and emitted a sound that no asari throat could produce. It was a high, keening shriek, underlayed by a deep basso bellow that belied something with far larger lungs than his was _really fucking pissed off_. His feet left the decking as the asari twisted, her fingers slick with his blood as she gripped the rent in his armor.

Sky and ground interchanged, and Wrex flailed as he fell. He barely managed a trick an old asari friend taught him a few decades back, and slowed his fall just enough to avoid fatal damage as he crashed into the freight-container, merely shattering his forearm and bruising several ribs. He tore his way out of the container and looked up the five stories to where the battle still raged on the bridge.

"Gods below, girl, you'd better survive. I want a rematch."

* * *

The 'Pack's drive was faltering. The turrets may have been damaged, but they could still spit lead in at least limited firing arcs. Mowing down the stragglers left only the hardened vanguard to deal with, and they had no reinforcements. Enyala's shotgun barked once, twice, thrice as she moved out, then went on cooldown as she splattered three vorchas' brains over the decking. Her armor had shrugged off most return fire, what little had gotten through her shields, and she wasn't going to stop just now, not with that glorious sight up ahead.

That dark-blue bitch had to have been holding back in the ring, there was no fucking way she could have been going all out, not when she could do _that_.

Bitch wasn't even using her gun anymore, she'd torn off a piece of the alloy-steel railing and was using it to literally beat vorcha to death. Enyala had seen what looked like a krogan being hurled off the side of the bridge, and hot damn, she wanted in on the carnage. Still, the resistance was thinning, and some of the brighter krogan were starting to retreat across the bridge, focusing fire on the turrets to disable them enough to let them get back with their organs un-punctured.

The girl was having none of it. Those krogan in close proximity had found out the hard way that shields don't do jack-shit about a length of metal being swung into your face, and more than one krogan had lost an eye over there before losing his life. Enyala rounded a crate and snapped two shots into the nearest krogan before the girl's spinning slash tore the krogan's throat out in a spray of yellow-orange gore. The sight of it made Enyala tingle as she stepped carefully across the blood-slicked decking.

That girl, she thought her name was Jona, had been very busy. no fewer than six smashed and pulped vorcha, and three krogan had been laid out around her, and although the girl was bleeding and had a fairly large chunk of skin shot off in her midriff, she was still on her feet and fighting.

Her overhand smash brought the last krogan, a hulking great brute, down on his knees, and before she could finish him off, Enyala's shotgun was pressed to his cheek and had blown his head clean off.

It took the girl a second to realize what had happened, and the clatter of her makeshift weapon hitting the ground was loud in the sudden stillness.

* * *

Captain Wasea had been coordinating the defense from a nearby command &amp; control bunker - more a closet they had re-purposed really. She had live video feed from all the Eclipse helmet-cams and the turrets' own visual processors, along with audio from the same sources, allowing her to call targets and spot any flanking maneuvers. A lot of Eclipse commanders would have preferred to lead from the front, but Wasea counted herself among the smarter subset who preferred to let their sub-commanders take charge of the tactical situation while she focused on the strategic.

It was because of that that she had made Captain after only a dozen years, while Enyala, who had joined up a year or two earlier than she, was still stuck at Lieutenant. It was something that grated the other asari immensely, and something that Wasea enjoyed needling her over.

Once the battle was over, she emerged from her 'bunker' and started giving direct orders to organize the cleanup. Techs were already on standby, having been summoned the instant the turrets were struck, to help fix them as rapidly as possible, in case the Blood Pack had an extra wave they were holding in reserve, to take advantage of the post-battle relaxation. So far, they hadn't been that smart, but you never could tell with Krogan.

She met with Enyala out on the bridge itself, the LT directing her squad to start stripping the bodies. "So, where's this miracle-girl?"

Enyala tossed her head out towards the bridge, "Out there. She's still a bit touchy."

The older asari nodded slightly, stepping past her subordinate and rounding the crates to get a good look at the battle. Sometimes watching it through video feeds wasn't enough, you had to get out there to see for yourself. In this case, the blood and guts and offal assailed her nostrils, making her gorge rise, and making her thankful that she hadn't had more than a light lunch earlier. The girl was out at the last row of crates, and at first Wasea thought there was something wrong with her.

The girl was swaying slightly, shifting her weight from side to side, standing on the balls of her feet. As Wasea got closer, she saw that the girl's odd eyes were half-closed, her lips parted and one hand flexing slightly, the other resting on the edge of the crate. The captain only hesitated slightly before moving in and speaking.

"I was watching the feeds. Good work on crushing those idiots. Even knowing you're hot-headed, we need more sisters like you. Let's negotiate."

The girl didn't reply for a second, and the captain moved closer. "You're good in a fight, competent, efficient. I like that. You could go far with Eclipse."

Pale-yellow eyes focused in her direction and something about them gave Wasea pause. "Why?"

It hadn't been articulated as a question, but Wasea took it as one. "You're smart, good with esoteric weapons, and it didn't look like you missed much with that gun of yours. With a proper firearm, you could be a big asset in future operations."

"Asset." The girl's tone was flat, almost entirely uninflected, though she was clearly in the grip of some post-combat fatigue. Wasea could empathize, she'd gotten used to her own post-combat shakes.

"You could name your price. If you want rank, I could see about getting you set up as an NCO right now. A commission might take a few days, but if you want it, you've got it."

The girl was silent for so long Wasea started to wonder if she was hearing her at all. Pale eyes flicked from her face to the gore-streaked bridge where a few Sisters were searching for valuable tech. "You saw what I can do."

"Yes, that's why-" She cut off as the girl's eyes flicked back to her own, something in them making her shut up without a conscious decision as her well-honed danger sense started pinging in alarm.

"Then why are you in my way."

The girl paused for a moment, pale eyes staring for a moment before she stepped past Wasea. She stumbled slightly, corrected with ease, but that initial stumble told Wasea much. The girl wasn't really in post-combat cooldown, she only looked it. This was something else, some sort of struggle going on inside. Still, that last implied threat spoke volumes.

Wasea became aware of Enyala at her elbow when the taller asari spoke. "How'd it go? She take the offer?"

Wasea shook her head. "She turned me down, I think."

"What?!" Enyala turned to look at her boss with surprise. "Why? We need girls like that if we're gonna push into the other gangs' territory!"

"I know, En. Still, I don't wanna push her right now. You saw what she did to the krogan, do _you_ wanna get in her way?"

The pair of asari watched as the girl crossed the bridge, moving as if in a trance, shifting just far enough to get out of the way of a sister coming back with a skid loaded down with bits of salvage. Later, Wasea would swear she saw something flick behind the girl as she stepped out of sight.

* * *

Aethyta had given up ringing the chime and had started pounding on the door. In another five minutes, she was going to bribe the manager to unlock the door for her. Jona must sleep like the dead.

She held the intercom button again, "Jona, I swear, if you don't open this door in the next minute, I'm going to tear it out of the frame!"

"I suggest you don't, it would make the management nervous."

Aethyta's head snapped to the side, blinking in surprise as Jona rounded the corner. She was about ten meters away, but even at that distance, Aethyta could see the faint smears of blood on her young friend's outfit.

"Goddess, girl, what have you been up to?"

Jona didn't reply, merely stepped up to the door, which Aethyta backed off from, and unlocked it with speedy fingers. It slid open for them, and as Jona stepped inside, so did the older asari, glaring at the seemingly-drained youngster. "I want an answer, Missy. What have you been doing?"

The dark-skinned asari merely gave her a glance of pale eyes, and locked the door. Jona's swift glance around the room made Aethyta frown, but Jona gave a satisfied nod. What happened next shocked and scared Aethyta on a visceral level.

Jona let out a slow breath, her eyes closing. Her scalp darkened, so did the rest of her skin. Two of her scalp-crests lifted, darkening still and going rigid, as the rest of them split, split again and again and again until they were hundreds, thousands of tiny fibers. She swelled, not merely bulking out, but actually _growing_ by nearly half a meter, spine crackling as it lengthened. Aethyta staggered back, and almost fell through the doorway into the tiny bathroom with a cry.

The young asari wasn't done there. A soft, wet tearing sound was accompanied by a long tail swinging into view, and as the towering figure opened her eyes, red-gold eyes stared into Aethyta's wide-open deep-blues. Before the shocked asari could do more than open her mouth, the figure turned to the blank wall. She fitted a small, intricate key into a lock and opened the door there into a...different world.

Aethyta's breath hitched to a stop as a doorway opened in a wall that _had no door_. Night sky, strewn with stars far too bright and vibrant to be dulled by cityscape light-pollution greeted her, above a box canyon that seemed to end in a cliff. Twin lanterns glowed with a soft, steady, golden light to either side of the doorway, illuminating what looked like a rock garden and some sort of platform in the distance. The tall figure stepped through the doorway, turning to give her an almost imperious stare from that strange otherworldly place.

Her voice, when it came, was rich, deeper than most women, and held a calm, but regal tone, "I grant you permission to enter my Refuge, Matriarch Aethyta. We have much to discuss."


	7. Chapter 7: Answers & Questions

**Ripples in the Stream**

A D&amp;D / Shadowrun / Mass Effect crossover by Vyrexuviel

Disclaimer: The author of this story does not, in any way, derive any profit from the story. D&amp;D, Shadowrun and Mass Effect are the property of their respective copyright holders. Jorukaia and other unfamiliar characters in this story, however, are mine.

* * *

Aethyta'd been kicking around the galaxy for quite some time. She spent a couple decades dancing on stages both elegant and seedy, saved up enough with her friends to buy an old quarian scout-ship and went gallivanting around the galaxy, hunting out that ever-illusive golden glory jackpot, a mineral find that would make them all rich. They never found it, but they managed to make a profit on more runs than they made losses, so eventually they all retired from exploring asteroid fields and drifted apart. Shevanna was one of the few that Aethyta kept in touch with, her old engineer having gone into aftermarket ship modifications, and the two of them kept their old ship in running condition.

One thing lead to another and before she had realized it, she'd become a matron, and the urge to settle down and raise kids came over her. She had the usual few of them, twice with a krogan, once with a turian, but she and her daughters never really connected the way other asari bonded with their children.

Now, sliding into matriarch, she'd been around the galaxy for a very long time, made one fortune, lost it and built up another. She met a wonderful woman, one with a heart that blazed, and damn her for a fool, but she would have wed Benezia T'soni, had not political considerations kept them apart She'd seen sights both wondrous and bizarre, breathtaking and horrific. But none of that prepared her for the act of stepping through a door that should not be there, and into another world.

The air was crisp, cool but not cold, and while the small box canyon at the edge of the cliff was fairly well-lit with two ancient-style free-standing lamp-posts, the sky overhead had the same breathtaking clarity Aethyta remembered from countless uninhabited worlds. Clear, cold and brilliant, the stars overhead wove a tapestry of diamonds embedded in jet. The canyon floor had three main walkways, two along the squared-off edges that ran out to the edge of the cliff, and between them was a wide expanse of garden. Low plants and just two carefully-shaped bonsai trees gave way to what looked similar to a human-style zen rock garden, with carefully-tended swirls and stones placed just so. Between the trees, she could just make out what looked like a raised meditation platform suspended off the edge of the cliff. She turned, noting the worn walls and the fact that the far end of the canyon seemed to have been worked, widened and flattened into a stone wall with a single door in its center.

But what really held her attention was the free-standing arch, a good 3m tall and maybe half that wide, made of a stone so black it seemed to eat the light that touched it. Faint lines of every color of the rainbow seemed to weave through it, just below the surface, and vanished when one looked closely, but the archway was still full of a view of the tiny, cramped little apartment that Jona Siberys had rented, showing an angle that should have been from a bare, blank wall.

She turned back to the tall, silent, dark figure, "Alright, what the flaming **FUCK** is _this_?!"

* * *

Joru just adored seeing the expression of shock and amazement. It was one of her few pleasures that didn't invoke the beast, and she gave a quiet snicker. "Welcome to my Refuge, Matriarch Aethyta."

"Refuge? From what? Just where in the galaxy _are_ we?"

Joru grinned unrepentantly and prepared to blow Aethyta's mind again. "We aren't."

"Aren't what?"

"In your galaxy."

* * *

The kitchen was surprisingly rustic. Wooden tables, stone counters and a small metal basin next to a larger sink. An ancient-looking iron stove, with only a hint of rust at one corner, served as both oven and stove-top, and on which a kettle was just beginning to boil. The tall, sleekly scaled woman was humming something tunelessly under her breath as her tail swayed behind her, shifting the teakettle from the stove to the tray beside it, turning back to her guest and adding a few fragrant leaves to each of the eggshell-thin cups before pouring boiling water over both and letting them steep.

Jona, 'no, her name is Jorukaia', gave a gentle smile as she set one cup and saucer before her guest. The flight to the Refuge proper had been both terrifying and exhilarating, clinging to this strange woman's back as twin wings had burst into existence, just _after_ she had dived off the cliff. Aethyta's nerves had calmed almost at once, but it was never going to be her favorite method of travel, and she absolutely would _not_ let Jona 'Joru, dammit!' carry her bridal-style.

The cup rattled in the saucer a bit as Aethyta picked it up, and took a tiny sip of the still-steaming tea. She pursed her lips in appreciation, for while it was hardly one of the Khevish-root teas from Thessia, it was still quite good.

"So let me get this straight, you're not from my _universe_?"

"Pretty much." Joru gave a faint smile, sipping her own tea and giving her guest a glance with those eerie gold-in-red eyes. "I didn't exactly have much choice in the matter. It was this or oblivion."

"Yeah, and about that, just what _was_ it that gave you that choice?"

Joru shrugged slightly, "I might have called it Ao, once. The Overgod, the Lord of Deities, take your pick. You might have called it Athame, or the unified consciousness of all possible realities. All I know is that it was an intelligence so vast and different from my own that it had to step itself down several layers of understanding to be able to express a concept in a way that would not shatter my mind."

The asari gave a shiver at that. "And just what did it say to you?"

"It wasn't in words, nor even precisely in images, but raw concepts." The taller woman's tail shifted restlessly as she took another sip of tea. "I was... an anomaly. Something that should not exist where I was. I belonged to a timestream, but my home one was... distant, for lack of a better term."

"I thought you said you were outside spacetime? Doesn't that mean that everything was equally distant?"

"Not precisely. I think it was more in terms of energy expenditure to put me back where I was. In any event, I was not supposed to be where I was, so it was going to remove me."

"That sounds rather painful."

The darastrix gave another shrug. "I don't know. But something stopped it. One of the tapestries 'near' us flickered and changed. That caught its attention, even more than the curiosity of a finite mortal existing in the infinite non-existence where we were."

"What did it do?" The tea was a bit odd, but starting to grow on her. Aethyta took another sip.

"It examined it, then offered me a choice." Joru shifted, glancing meaningfully at her guest, "A thread had been pulled. A strand of destiny had been unraveled and ended before its time. I was offered the chance to take its place, step into a dead-woman's shoes. Or I could be extinguished."

"Doesn't sound like much of a choice."

"No, it wasn't. Still. Once I had seen what had been changed, I couldn't turn aside, even if I could have instantly gone back to my homeworld."

"What had been changed that made you so eager to dive into a different universe?"

The taller woman sighed, rolling her fragile teacup back and forth in hands that could tear steel. "Death. Destruction, and damnation. And above it all, shapes. I couldn't quite make them out, but they were...pleased."

She gave a soft sigh and continued, "I actually saw that timestream twice. The first time, it was as it should have been. Time is slippery to grasp at the best of times, but in a place where it is literally just another direction you can look, I saw a huge swath of the timestream, though not in quite enough detail to make out precisely what events caused such a huge disturbance in the Tapestry."

Aethyta held her breath. This hadn't been what she had expected.

After a moment, her hostess continued, gazing into her dark tea. "A woman's life had been ended prematurely, before her thread could entwine and change the course of thousands, if not billions of other threads. The vast majority of threads do not touch more than a few, possibly as many as a dozen in their lifetimes. But certain individuals have a greater Destiny, granted either by choice or fate, call it what you will. This woman would have touched the entire galaxy, given time."

The darastrix gave a sigh, sipped her tea and went on. "In the original timeline, the ripples of her actions continued far past the point where her thread ended. I think she did more than merely touch people, she inspired them so that her deeds and actions altered their decisions long after she was dead. I am still not certain exactly what she did, but I like to think she gave hope to a people in the grip of a terror so total that death was preferable to facing it."

Something about that made Aethyta grow cold, "What sort of thing could be that bad?"

A shake of the horned head, "I have no idea. But I did see what happened when her thread was removed prematurely. The tapestry shifted as I passed closer, showing me war on a scale I could not fathom." She turned those flaming eyes on her guest, her words cold and harsh now, "Families ripped apart, fighting themselves. Sister turned on sister, mother against child. Entire _worlds_ burned, Aethyta. Thessia was a barren rock."

Hardened as she was, the asari gave a faint gasp at that.

"And then came the Harvest."

"Harvest, what harvest?"

Another shake of the head, "I would rather not speak of it. It's all just images in my head now. Hopefully, that future will never come to pass."

There was a moment of silence after that, neither of them having the stomach for more tea just at present. Eventually, Aethyta broke it. "So, what do you plan to do?"

"What I can." Joru straightened a bit, "I was allowed to see certain faces, certain places. I'm certain they're important, but I don't know how or why. Certain events played themselves out before my eyes as I was drawn into the Tapestry, some in what I believe is the future, others in the past."

Those flaming eyes turned to Aethyta, "Your face was one of them. A minor player, but an important one."

Aethyta's eyes widened at that, "Me? What did I do to be singled out like that?"

A faint chuckle rumbled from her hostess, "Not what you did, what you're _going_ to do." She gave a sigh, "But already what I know is starting to fray and become unusable. Liara was a vastly more important person, and she was not meant to be captured. That's why I tried to get to her as quickly as I could. She was in danger, but in the first timeline, she was rescued before Saren's Geth got to her."

The asari shivered, and after some internal debate, Aethyta reached out to pat the scaled hand, "I'm certain you did your best, with what you had."

The violence with which her hand was thrown off startled her. "I could have done more! If I hadn't been thrice-blasted _stupid_, I could have used the computers on board the Normandy to find out where Liara was and gone directly to her! If I had bothered to shift myself back into Shepard's shape when I woke, none of this would be happening, I'd still be on the Normandy."

She subsided and heaved a heavy sigh, "Hells, I might have been a Spectre already. My power certainly would not have hurt in that regard."

Aethyta blinked, "Wait, what, Spectre? They were considering this, Shepard for Spectre candidacy?"

A nod, and a faint grin, "Technically, it was me they were considering. Shepard has been dead for the past 13 years. I'm the one who did what they considered remarkable enough to consider for Special Tactics and Recon. Still. That wasn't really me either."

Joru glanced over at the asari again, "You see, when I arrived, I was shifted to look exactly like Shepard, and my abilities put under a lock. I was forced to think of myself as Shepard, unaware of who and what I truly was, I believed to the core of my being that not only was I human, but that my name was Jordan Shepard, and I had just killed every last batarian who had massacred my family on Mindoir."

The matriarch winced, "Ouch."

That drew a slight smile from Joru, "Yeah. Ouch. Still, better than what happened to Shepard."

"What did happen to her? I think you said that her... thread was cut prematurely?"

Another nod, "Yes. I don't know the precise specifics of how her fate was changed, but I got a very good look at her last moments, as I arrived to fill her place. She had just killed the last batarian slaver. Her parents were dead, her uncle and aunt were dead, her grandmother was dead, her cousins were dead, her sister was dead, her brother-in-law was dead, her niece was dead. Everyone she knew was dead."

"Post-combat shock?"

"Perhaps. Or perhaps the urge came from outside. Whatever its origin, she laughed. It was a...broken sound."

Aethyta shivered, she could just imagine it.

"Then she took the gun she had torn from a cooling batarian corpse, that she had used to kill her family's murderers, put it to her head, and pulled the trigger. She was smiling."

The asari winced and looked into her tea. It had gotten cold, but she took a sip anyway.

"That was when I arrived."

She needed to shift the subject, this was getting too dark. "Yeah, and about that, this wasn't your first time hopping between dimensions, right?"

A faint chuckle from the taller woman, "No. The first was completely by accident. I had found myself in an untenable position, fighting a foe far beyond my abilities, and did what I could to try to escape. A combination of different magics, converging at the right point at the right time caused a rupture that directed itself to another universe, similar to how lighting builds up and up until it grounds itself in the earth."

"Yeah, and that's how you wound up on Earth?"

"Mmhmmm. I spent more than six decades there, from the start of their Awakening in 2012, through to the year 2075."

"Damn, and you're a time-traveler too?"

Joru just gave a laugh, grinning a little as Aethyta struggled to suppress a yawn. "Not precisely, but I think that we should perhaps retire."

She stood, setting her cup down and offering a hand with claw-tipped fingers to her guest, "You may use my bed this night. I shall meditate, I think. I have missed this place sorely, and had thought it lost forever when I awoke to myself."

Aethyta grimaced, but nodded, knocking back the last of the tea and rising, "I suppose I should sleep." She poked Joru's arm, with a faint, wry smile, "But I'm going to ask more questions in the morning."

The dragoness merely smiled.

* * *

"Get that hose out, come on, come on!" The fire chief was frantic. The call had come in more than an hour ago, but no one had realized how bad it was until the second hover-truck arrived, to find the first one an incinerated mess, and most of the crew suffering from third-degree burns. An explosion nearby had caused part of the decking to collapse, pinning the truck and trapping most of the crew. It took them several long, precious minutes to get clear enough to get a good signal back to the firehouse.

"Move it, you sparkly blue bitches! COME ON!" Vectis hadn't been fire marshal back when the Tarelli Tower had gone up, but he'd heard the stories, they all had. One of the most prestigious and oldest towers in Nos Astra, it had been brought down when one of the gang-wars in its underside had gotten out of hand, and both sides' munitions stockpiles had been detonated. Minor cave-ins were to be expected, but too many of the main support pillars had been cut at once, weakened by the raging firestorms that had destroyed much of the underlevel, and then the damned explosives had gone off...

He had vowed, as all of them had, to give their lives rather than let something like that happen again. Thankfully, his crew was one of the most disciplined in the business, and damn territorial disputes or not, he brought his best to make good and spirits-blasted sure this wasn't going to be a disaster.

The fifth and sixth trucks had arrived by now, and the heavily-armored asari rescue troopers were jumping off before it had even slowed down. Some of his best-trained girls, they were highly useful in finding survivors. The four of them used the momentum to charge into the flames and begin their urgent search. In a way, they were his shock-troops, his elite, in this very different kind of war. They hunted for survivors, for anything that could be a danger, for things that could turn a bad situation worse, and make sure that he wouldn't be sacrificing more lives trying to win an unwinnable battle.

First reports had been chilling. A controlled fire in the central-lower nexus of one of the older towers. He and his station chiefs had heard the stories, and some of the older asari had actually been around when the tower fell. He'd scrambled his units, but only Liriana's group was close enough to respond immediately. When he hadn't heard back from them in a while, he sent the second truck to make sure they were just having comm problems. When he heard from _them_, he scrambled everything.

"It's no good, chief, that fire's too hot for water, and our chemical suppressors aren't doing a damn bit of difference!" Liriana and her group had been pulled from the wreck and sent with medical evac to the nearest hospital for emergency treatment.

"Cover everything you can and at least try to stop it from spreading! We have to preserve the pillars at all costs!" He'd fought many kinds of fires in the past, simple office fires, chemical fires, even a fire in an explosives plant, luckily with no actual explosives on-site, but that was a harrowing experience.

"We've tried, sir, and it seems to be working, but the damned heat is making it impossible-" His second-in-command broke off at a shout from the doorway. The fire was intense, even a dozen meters away. The heavily-armored figure that emerged was wreathed smoke and stained with soot, but the figure it had over its shoulder was nothing good.

Krogan, and a big one. He would have towered over Vectis, had he been whole. Mostly, he was just charred at this point. Krogan suffered burns much the same as everyone else, even the vaunted Krogan regeneration didn't do shit to burns, and this one was covered in 3rd and 4th degree burns, despite his armor.

"Spirits-blast them." He made his way over to the figure, one of his elite, and shouted to be heard over the roar of the inferno behind them. "Where'd you find him!?"

"Three doors in!" The asari's voice was amplified by her suit, but she still had to shout over the hungry bellowing of the fire. "He was trapped under a fallen wall! Had to use three of us to get him out! Veris and Takir are still searching!"

"Get back inside and check for others!" He nearly jumped out of his suit when the krogan grasped weakly at his chest.

"Please..." The wheeze was barely audible, "Have... Have to get away... The eyes... She watches..." The krogan's chest hitched and he gave a horrendous cough, spraying soot into the air.

Vectis and his elite shared a look, "I've got him. Get back and check for more."

The elite didn't bother replying, merely turned and charged once more into the flames.

The roar of the flames seemed to do more than bellow at them, there was a resonance to it that he hadn't heard before. It didn't just seem to be the usual roar of fire, but an actual, twisted shriek that send shivers up his spine despite the infernal heat. "Spirits help us."

* * *

The matriarch woke to the sound of singing. It took her a moment to place her surroundings, so very different to her own bedchambers in her spire-level apartment. Wood-paneled walls and a soft, thick carpet over what felt like a smooth stone floor as she got to her feet brought back memories of the conversation with that... individual she had met last night. Well, technically she had met Joru back on Therum, but she didn't know that at the time.

The bedroom was tastefully furnished, elegant hardwood furniture in a minimalistic style that somehow clashed with the boisterous energy she sensed beneath the surface of her calm host. The bed itself was quite modern, a huge expanse of mattress, both in length as well as breadth, to accommodate the long tail as well as the tall frame of her host. Absently, Aethyta straightened the bedsheets, wondering how often Jorukaia had to replace them. The woman's claws weren't exactly retractable.

The rest of the bedroom held two free-standing cabinets and a walk-in closet. The cabinets, glass-fronted, held various knick-knacks, including one medium-sized sculpture with soft, flowing curves in some sort of gleaming metal. As much as she wanted to, Aethyta restrained the urge to rummage through her hostess's things. She dressed in her old clothes, which had apparently been cleaned, laundered and folded overnight.

The singing was coming from outside, and after some hesitation, Aethyta stepped out onto the stone balcony projecting out from the cliff-face. The entire complex was built into the cliff-side, hollowed out by magic, according to Joru, including this natural-looking outcrop that ran along the length of the main section of the Refuge. It ran from the bedroom area, on the left as one looked at the cliff, over to the library complex on the right, passing the kitchen and study in the process. The bath was over left of the bedroom, but Aethyta had more pressing concerns.

There was no way to get out of the Refuge save by flying, and her host was nowhere to be seen.

She walked the length of the 'porch', trying to localize the singing. Joru had a pretty nice voice, feminine, though deeper than most asari ever got. The song was wordless, just a soft tone that seemed to resonate, provoking soft stirs of emotion. Aethyta had just figured out that the singing was coming from the area they had arrived in, the box-canyon entryway to the Refuge-dimension, when the singing ceased. She sat in one of the wickerwork chairs and waited.

She didn't have to wait long, Joru came into view around the thick vertical bulge in the rock face that separated the Refuge Proper from the Entryway, silent on black wings, and touched down with easy grace. "I hope I did not disturb you, it's not often I feel the urge to sing in the mornings."

"Nah, it's fine." Aethyta shrugged one shoulder, indicating one of the other chairs, "I was about done with sleeping for the night anyway. Besides, you have a nice voice."

Joru smiled and bowed her head slightly at the compliment, and Aethyta shifted a bit. "We kinda talked the night away, but I still think you're holding back. Most of the things we talked about were why you're here and how you got here, but I still don't really know where you came from. Just who _are_ you, Joru? What sort of childhood made you what you are?"

The dragoness stilled and for a moment Aethyta braced herself for an explosion of violence before a faint smile touched the taller woman's lips. "I suppose you have a right to be curious, though my past is hardly a happy one."

"I'd still like to hear."

The ebon-scaled woman gave a faint sigh, "Alright. I'll tell you some more of my tale, but I think we could both use some breakfast first."

* * *

The years hadn't been kind to Detective Anaya's sense of outrage, nor her naivete. She'd seen quite a few scenes that were worse than this one, chemical factory disasters, even some murders were more violent.

The problem was one of scale.

Fifteen bodies at least in the first room they had managed to get into and that number was tentative, and likely a lot higher once they got the bloodwork back from the lab. There'd been a lot of Tuchankan blood spilled in here, and not just spilled but splashed about as if someone had been playing water-bomb with blood bags. And then there was the smell...

Charred meat, burnt bone, and an undefinable stink that made even her experienced nose scrunch up in distaste. She wasn't sure what it was, and she didn't want to find out if she could help it. The lab techs were more suited to that sort of thing than she was.

"Detective." She turned at the call from one of her techs, "We've got someone out here who wants in..."

"Yes, well? Who is it?"

"Um, Spectre Vasir, Ma'am."

Anaya's spirits sank. If there was a Spectre involved in this, things were going to escalate _hard_ and pretty damned fast. "You got confirmation on that?"

"Yes, ma'am, she checks out."

'Damn,' she thought, "Well, send her in, don't keep a Spectre waiting."

The asari who sauntered in was clad in dark-blue armor with small white panels, something of a trademark of hers. Tela Vasir was older than Anaya, but not by much, and she'd been made a Spectre only last century. She was an oddball, but that wasn't saying much, most Spectres were odd in their own ways. Vasir's eccentricity was that she usually stayed on Illium, where her spreading connections cradled most of the border-world. She was one of the few Spectres to make her status blatant, open and public. Most Spectres preferred to be off-the-books, at least publicly. It made infiltration jobs a lot easier if your face wasn't plastered all over the Extranet.

She moved with the sort of easy grace that belied the weight of the armor suit she wore, glancing about and giving a low whistle. That made Anaya smile faintly, getting a bit of praise from a Spectre, even if only on the messiness of a crime-scene in her precinct. "How can I help you, Spectre?"

Vasir didn't turn to face her immediately, examining the carnage instead, "Actually, I was thinking I could help you out a bit." She turned, giving Anaya a look and a quirk of the lips in a slight smile, "To be frank Detective, I'm kinda bored right now. I cleared up the last of that sapient trafficking ring three months ago, and I've been up to my scalp in nothing but busywork since. I need something I can sink my teeth into, so I canvassed the I-Sec system, and this came up."

A surprisingly frank answer from someone reputed to be aloof and distant. "I, well. I suppose if you really want in on this investigation, I can't stop you, Spectre, though I think we've got things well enough in hand."

Vasir merely nodded a bit, glancing at the pile of vorcha bodies off to one side. "Mind giving me the rundown on what you know so far? It looks like a lot happened in here."

Anaya gave a faint nod, turning back towards the open door. "We think that happened first."

"The door?" Vasir's brow quirked at that, "What about it?"

"It was forced open."

Both brows rose that time. "Really. That would have taken some heavy equipment."

The detective savored the moment, before continuing. "It was done by hand. The imprint of a palm and fingers is quite visible."

Vasir hesitated for a moment, then gave a slight grin. "I just knew I would find something interesting down here. What else?"

"The vorcha weren't killed first. We think there was a krogan in here too, but the lab is still working on that."

"No corpse? He walked off?"

"No. See the flaked patches on the wall? Blood splatter. And there's a bunch of chunks of meat scattered around, most of them have been removed."

"He got torn apart?" Vasir's brows rose again at that. "Must've been some crazy bastard to do that. I've seen krogan rip off limbs in blood-rage, but never seen one ripped entirely apart."

Anaya shrugged one shoulder, stepping carefully through the splatters on the floor and leading the Spectre towards the next doorway, nodding towards a third. "That way lead to the secondary hanger. Not much happened in there that we can tell. We think there was another gunship in there, maybe a troop transport, but it's not there now. Some survivors at any rate."

Vasir merely cocked her head, following along behind the detective. Her omnitool was out and scanning, no doubt more effective than the cops doing the official scanning, even at the greater range. Spectres got all the best toys.

Anaya had to duck under a hanging support beam to get through the corridor. "Someone ran through here. Two krogan at least, to judge by the chemical traces and blood spoor. Something else too, though we aren't sure what. Whatever it was didn't leave a chemical trace, but we did get some blood splatter."

"Some _thing_? And wait, the krogan were running _away_ from it?"

"Yeah. We aren't sure what it was, and it didn't leave tracks. We only confirmed its presence due to the camera footage adn some annomylous blood samples. We'll forward it to your office." The detective pointed to a couple spots on the wall, "We think the krogan shot at whatever it was. Note that the blood splatter is fairly consistent with an unarmored and unshielded target."

Vasir took a closer look, her omnitool's scanning beam rapidly cycling over the blood drops. "Hmm... moving pretty fast to judge by the blood spoor, and I think there might be at least two different wounds."

"We thought so too." The detective moved slowly along the corridor, pointing out the various small blood drops. "We figure that whatever it was, we think it was bipedal, had a stride of nearly three meters, and was running flat out."

"Pretty damned tall too, no doubt, with that kind of stride." The spectre's omnitool rapidly scanned over and over the droplets from various directions. "Hmm... hemoglobin, so iron-based blood, but very thick and viscous."

"It's not in our database yet, so whatever was bleeding was possibly a new species. We're thinking it might have been some sort of pet that got loose right now, but that's subject to further evidence."

Anaya turned down a cross-corridor and paused at the doorway at its center until the Spectre caught up. "We think the main server room was through there. Only one body, charred bones and ash, and the servers are slag. Not a hope in hell of recovering the data now."

"What sort of fire was it, have your techs figured it out yet?"

The detective shook her head, "Whatever it was, it burned hot enough to soften steel, but not hot enough to quite melt anything."

Vasir nodded and glanced into the room before motioning the detective onward, "Go on, Anaya, consider me intrigued."

The younger asari gave a faint smirk and lead the way along the corridor and up the stairs at the end into what had evidently been the main meeting hall / hanger bay. "Since you're no doubt itching to get to the really impressive bits..."

The low whistle the spectre gave this time wasn't feigned at all. The walls were scorched black to the height of the ceiling, five meters overhead. Some plates were buckled under extreme heat and the entire place still choking with the cloying smell of burned meat. Vasir gave a cough as she stepped in, her nose wrinkling, "Can't you air this place out?"

"Air vents were clogged up. We can't get them unstuck yet. And the clogs might be more evidence." She gestured first to the main pile of body-bags, tossed haphazardly in one corner. "Twenty-three semi-intact vorcha, six krogan. There's probably more, once we get the vents unclogged."

Vasir gave her a stare at that, "It got _that_ bad in here?" She shook her head at the Detective's nod, looking around, then pointing over to the main feature in the room that really stood out.

One wall held a ragged hole, its edges puckered and smooth. "That's interesting... Rather a neat hole, someone must have been a pretty dab hand at a blowtorch."

"We thought so too, but we've not found a single trace of the removed section."

Vasir gave the detective a curious look, "What, it's gone? Did it up and walk out or something?"

Anaya gave a faint shrug and gestured to the edges, where there were several slight bulges along the fairly smooth, angled surface. "See these? We aren't quite sure yet, but we think the center disc was removed all at once, not cut out around its edge."

The Spectre cocked her head, examining the edge more closely. She ran an armored hand along the edge, peering at the angle and clicking her tongue. She strode across to the other side of the opening, a few meters away, stepping over the small pile of slag at ankle-high at the bottom of the hole. "Huh. I haven't seen something like that before."

Detective Anaya straightened, her expression growing intent, "What is it, Spectre?"

"The metal at the edges shows severe signs of extreme heat damage, recrystallization of its molecular structure, but there's only a remarkably small zone damaged by that heat. There's a similarity of angles here too..." She stepped across, running her omnitool along the edge of the hole, from one side, across the bottom and up as far as she could reach, then moved back from it, almost four meters away and nodding at her display.

"Whatever hit it, hit it _fast_, and was most likely hot enough to vaporize the metal. The angles all converge on a point-source, or near enough." The Spectre gave the suddenly pale detective a quick smile, "This just got a hell of a lot more interesting..."

* * *

"My mother was the third daughter of House Dorscua, fifth Minor House of Menzobarranzan." Powerful fingertips, claws gleaming slightly with oil, drew the brush along the slow curve with surprising delicacy.

"Her name was Jhaelithra." A slow, sweeping curve complete, reversing course into a different, slightly tighter curve.

"What was she like?"

The fingers paused only momentarily, before finishing the curve and lifting the brush from the piece of curved metal. "Cold, harsh. Not quite as brutal as others, but distant. More than is normal among the dherrow."

"Because of your father?"

"Partially. I've told you some of what their society is like, but you don't really understand the depth to which the instinct for betrayal had sunk. Their culture was steeped in assassination and bloodshed for longer than the Asari have had technology." The brush-tip was carefully dipped into the small, shallow bowl of clear oil, then carefully applied to the metal once more. "She had been discovered as part of a plot of the First Daughter, a pawn but an important one. First Daughter was punished with her life, but my mother had been unaware of her sister's motivations for her seemingly-benign requests. That saved her life."

"Wait, your grandmother punished your eldest aunt with _death_ for a failed plot?!"

"I told you, backstabbing, intrigue and treason were as air to the drow. They eat it, drink it, revel in it. The more poignant and bitter the betrayal, the greater their pleasure." Another sweeping curve, finishing the design, and the piece of metal was set back into its place. One more piece was left, this one a long cylinder, and would require different materials to properly prepare.

"The plot involved the deaths of a great number of the Household, including my grandmother. There is an old saying, at least among humans. 'Hold your friends close, and your enemies closer.' Drow hold their immediate family closest of all for that very reason." The oil was carefully tipped back into its bottle, the stopper carefully replaced. The bowl was set atop the small tower of similar bowls whose contents were finished with, and another small bowl was filled with the last contents of a small vial.

"You advance by assassination, then?"

"_They_ do, yes. My mother may have been drow, but I am _not_." The glittering white powder, edged with violet hues was set to one side. A small, silver knife was raised, its edge sharp and clean.

"Do you really have to do that?"

"It is part of the enchantment's requirements, yes." Black liquid slowly filled another of the small bowls, drop by thick, viscous drop.

"What of your father then?"

"An obsidian dragon. Bound by my grandmother when she was young and daring. She had used him for many things over the years, mostly for his blood and bile." A long-handled brush, slender and tipped with only a small cluster of exquisitely-fine hairs that were dipped first into the black liquid, then rolled very carefully through the very surface of the gossamer-fine powder.

"My mother was given a choice. Death as a co-conspirator, or to bear the childe of my father." The long shaft of the brush was slid through the long cylinder of dark metal, the brush-tip fitted very carefully to one of the long, fine grooves that slowly spiraled along the inside of the metal.

"So, forced to bear a half-breed, or die. Not much of a choice. I don't envy her."

"Nor do I." The brush was drawn slowly through the cylinder, leaving a trail of glistening darkness along the long groove. "Still, I am here, now, so I must be grateful to some degree that she chose to spread her legs like some common whore and allow a beast to plough her, rather than to keep her pride and die."

"Not...exactly how I would have phrased that."

"It was the union of a monster and a beast." The brush-tip was wetted once more, and more powder gathered upon it. "She birthed me with much pain, for I was much larger than the typical drow child."

"I bet."

"Her pain does not matter. No doubt she is long dead now." Once more was the brush drawn through the long cylinder. "But she did gift me with knowledge, and for that, more than for bearing me, I can thank her."

"What knowledge?"

"Of my father. My grandmother never bothered telling me what manner of monster spawned me. I had overheard such horribly fanciful tales from other children, I was half-convinced I was demonspawn." Another dip, another roll in the powder, another long, slow drag through the cylinder. "As it is, being a dragon's child is not exactly the best of fates."

"Just what _is_ a dragon, anyway?"

"Power. Pride. Many things, both terrible and awe-inspiring. Some civilizations have worshiped them as gods, others fled from them as demons. They are an ancient people, older than your own civilization by half again, Aethyta." The brush dipped, rolled and was drawn through the metal once more. More black liquid dripped into the small bowl, from a gash in the scaled wrist. "Dragons, or Darastrix in our tongue, are elemental and primal creatures, so steeped in magic that it is difficult to know where the biology ends and the sorcery begins."

"...I can't really object to you calling it magic, now can I?"

A faint chuckle, "No, not now, I think."

"So, what did your father look like? Like you?"

"Hah, no. Far from humanoid. Four-legged, with vast wings adorning his shoulders, a long, sinuous neck, and longer tail. You can look up images of them in my copy of the Draconomicon in the library later, once I'm finished with this." The brush was dipped, carefully swirling to saturate the fibers with the glistening-black blood before it was carefully rolled across the top layer only of the fine powder in the other bowl. "As a half-blooded dragon, my physical form is more humanoid, but the draconic blood has gifted me with my scales, horns, teeth and claws, and my tail. As well as, I believe, my longevity."

"What? How long do drow usually live then?"

"They can last several centuries, easily, as can all descendants of elven blood. Some can even reach a millennium, if they are magically powerful. Dragons, however, live far longer."

"How much longer?"

"The lesser-lived dragons, those of chromatic hue, can live two, possibly three millennial with ease. The metallic dragons, four or five before the Twilight takes them." Another long stroke, the brush-tip carefully following one of the precise grooves in the long cylinder. "I, as an obsidian dragon, would normally tend towards the chromatic end of the spectrum, but as I have rejected certain tenants of my father's bloodline, I seem to have been granted a far longer lifespan than he would have enjoyed."

"...Four or five _**thousand years**_?!"

"I am not deaf, you do not need to speak at such volume." Another careful gathering of blood, another roll through the dust, another drag through the cylinder. Eight of the sixteen grooves done, and eight more to do. "I told you that it is difficult to separate magic and biology where dragons are concerned. We evolved on such a magically-charged world that our biology uses magic on a cellular level. It is why I can bask in the heat of molten lava, even bathe in it, if I were so inclined. My scales absorb the heat, and my flesh is impervious to flame."

"Sorry. It's... well, just a lot to take in."

"Mmmm. I understand." Another long stroke, dexterous fingers not varying the speed of the brush, not losing contact with the side of the cylinder. "But as to my past..."

"Yeah, sorry, got sidetracked. Um, what was your childhood like?"

"In a word? Brutal. I was a slave, unwanted by my mother, and thought of more as a potential asset than a person by everyone around me. I was barely taught to speak, and only learned to read with difficulty much later in life." Lips faintly dappled with nearly-invisible scales quirked faintly to one side. "I was trained from as young as I can remember in the arts of war and bloodshed. I was immersed in a bathful of blood in a ritual to enhance my combat prowess. I think I was three at the time."

"...Goddess above."

"My first kill was at the age of six. He was a young slave-boy who had displeased his mistress. He was given a knife, I had nothing. He was terrified." The fingers paused momentarily, gathering up another load of blood on the fine hairs. "I had been starved for nearly three weeks. I was feral with hunger."

"Oh, goddess..."

"It was the first meat I had had in so long, I didn't realize until several hours later just _what_ I ate." Another long, slow, smooth stroke. "Afterwards, they trained me to use weapons, even when I was half-mad with rage and hunger. I was...quite good at slaying those they targeted."

"...I could imagine..."

"If you must calm your stomach, there is a basin over there for such things." Another stroke, another dip, another roll. "I was quite amusing to them. They trained me for gladiatorial games. That much was truthful, in the half-lie I told you when we met. But I was also trained for assassination. I was a weapon to my grandmother, nothing more, nothing less. But she kept me honed, like a good knife is cleaned before it is sheathed, and kept sharp."

Soft retching sounds emanated from the corner with the basin. After some time, the asari spoke once more, "How could you stand it?"

"I knew no other life. I had no basis for comparison. The culture I was born into was so steeped in betrayal and suspicion, it was as natural as breathing. I learned very quickly to be wary, and I have kept the habit. I am _very_ difficult to take by surprise, now, mostly due to that early training." Another long stroke through the cylinder of dark metal, leaving a faint trail of glistening dust along one of the grooves. "As I grew, my scales came in, and my horns grew through as my hair darkened. Though I was born with my tail, I only learned to use it as a weapon as I reached puberty. By that time I was head and shoulders taller than the vast majority of drow, and physically much stronger than they. My grandmother took to parading me along on a leash, to further emphasize her control over me. Of course, it was mostly for show, the leash could break free if I needed to act quickly to defend her from some attack or other."

"So your... your own grandmother kept you as a slave. Trained you as an assassin and bodyguard, and... and basically brutalized you to the point where you thought it was normal?"

"Somewhat simplistic, but accurate as far as it goes. She had been brutalized in a similar fashion herself, after all, the entire society had. It was accepted social norm that the most dangerous threats, both bodily and political, were one's own family, and one must be watchful and on guard. Both to prevent showing weakness, and to find weaknesses in one's opponents."

"Sounds like a pretty fucked up society."

"In many ways it was. They were twisted by their goddess into a reflection of her madness. She demanded sacrifice, newborn males especially, and all males were at best second-class citizens. Useful tools, to be kept sharp and ready, but not in the same class of importance as the females. Most were slaves of their mothers or sisters." Another long, slow, clean stroke left another line of glistening dust. "I was somewhat lucky. A favored slave, if you will. Life was harsh, but if I performed well, I was given rich food to slake my hunger, and foes worthy of a battle to fight in the arena."

"Blood-sports." Aethyta's tone was both horrified and disgusted.

"But of course. It was what I was bred for, after all. I was to be my mistress's bloody tool, her blade, wielded as a scalpel, to remove her enemies from her path to victory." The scaled woman gave a faint chuckle as she drew the brush through the long cylinder once more. "Unfortunately for her, I was learning something that she would have rather I never learned."

"What was that?"

"How to differentiate between Right and Wrong." One last slow, methodical stroke, and the brush was carefully set down. "One of my teachers in the arts of bloodshed was a slave, a captured surfacer. Human."

"Wait, you had humans?"

"Yes, though originally they were not native to my planet. Neither were the drow, originally, but that is a discussion for another time." Quick, sure motions were slowly assembling the various pieces, some now anointed with special oils, others marked with carefully-inscribed lines, both embossed and engraved. Some, like the cylinder, had had special substances painted into the engraved lines, some of which gleamed, others which seemed to absorb the light. "She taught me good from evil, that compassion was not a sin punishable by death, that caring for others was not something to be guilty and ashamed of, a flaw that must be hidden at all costs. She taught me how to be myself, and gave me freedom long before my body was free."

"She sounds like a good person."

"Like so many slaves of the drow, she did not last long. She was executed some years after my training was begun under her, for failing live up to her new owner's expectations." A smooth oiled click as the assembly was worked, to make sure that everything fitted together. "Still, I shall remember Evelyn to my dying day, as the one who opened my eyes to see the world beyond the darkness. It was because of her teachings, both in the arts of war and in morals, that I eventually broke my chains and fled."

"What happened?"

"I was called to my grandmother's birthing chambers. She had had a long pregnancy, and it was clear it was twins. I only learned later that she had divined that it was twin boys." Joru stood, cradling the reassembled weapon in one hand and stepping over to the ritual circle, inscribed in the floor. She set the weapon in the center and stepped back, carefully letting a single drop of blood fall at each of the seven points of the seven-sided star. "I will need silence for this next part, please refrain from speaking until I've finished."

The asari stepped out of the way as the taller woman knelt on the bare stone of the laboratory. Joru leaned over, thumbs and forefingers carefully touching certain spots on the ritual circle. She took a breath and concentrated, as this would be the most difficult part. Intoning softly under her breath, her long tail perfectly still behind her, her eyes closed and her breath coming in slow, even cadence, she forced her magic to obey, to flow down through her arms, and into the ritual circle. It had been modified slightly for this particular enchantment, and some expensive powders and oils used to design the specific runes used to define how the magic would twist.

Aethyta's eyes widened as one by one the chalk-colored runes began to glow fiercely. As Joru's voice rose, never losing its cadence, Aethyta had to look away from the brightly-burning runes. There was a crack, like something finally stressed to the breaking point as Joru's incantation drew to its height, and within a few moments, the light had faded.

When she looked again, Joru had lifted the large handgun from the circle. The taller woman gave the asari an excited look, "Now, that was a fairly standard enchantment, but I had not attempted something like it before. if you would not mind, I'd like to test it."

"Sure, sure, just... well, I'll need your help to get down."

Joru laughed softly, a friendly sound, despite her somewhat imposing appearance, for all the worlds like a young maiden at that moment. It reminded Aethyta painfully of how excited Liara could get sometimes, when she was very young. "But of course, how silly of me." She stepped forward, "With your permission?"

"Sure." Aethyta didn't often find herself grasped by someone with the kind of strength Joru possessed, and it wasn't exactly the most comfortable feeling for her, but she endured it for the forty-meter drop down the shaft between the two laboratories to the main level of Joru's refuge. As her host had explained it, the reason for the separation was to prevent a magical accident or alchemical explosion from causing damage to the rest of the Refuge, but dropping what was effectively ten stories in what was essentially freefall was not her idea of fun, even if Joru did flare her wings to slow their descent at the bottom.

Setting her on the ground once more, Joru rapidly strode through the library, something that had fascinated Aethyta from the first moment she had gotten a look at it. The idea of paper books wasn't unknown to her, but to see so _many_ such relics was somewhat surprising. Joru had explained that part of the enchantments laid on the library was to both prevent damage to the books and preserve them in pristine condition, but even so, Aethyta hadn't had the courage to try perusing more than one or two of them.

She caught up with Joru on the balcony outside the library, where her host was just finishing loading a shell into her weapon. She had removed an astonishing number of them from the short magazine before beginning disassembly and careful preparation, explaining that the weapon had begun life as a standard shotgun design, but had been heavily modified before any metal had been cut.

"This might be a bit loud." The dragoness gave her a friendly smile, working the action to chamber the shell and taking a breath as she aimed the weapon out over the illusory valley. Aethyta stepped away and covered her ears, wincing even before the thunderous crash of the weapon boomed into the clear, grey light of morning. Fire belched from the muzzle, which even with Joru's great strength containing it still shifted upwards slightly. The illusion cast on the dimensional wall of the Refuge shifted slightly, but did not waver or ripple as Aethyta had expected.

She almost missed Joru's shout of triumph in the echoing thunder of the gun's discharge, but she had seen the violet-white bolt blast through the fire and slam into the wall of the Refuge. She grinned as Joru almost danced a jig in delight, laughing at the taller woman's exuberance, then finding herself swept up in a tight hug. "I hadn't been certain that the enchantments would form correctly, but now the only test left is to see what it does to a shielded target."

The dragoness turned to her, her excitement dying down to a soul-searching stare. She stepped forward and took Aethyta's hand. "I want to assure you, Aethyta, I haven't lost sight of our task. I will do my best to ensure that we find Liara, and bring her home safely."

She lifted the gun, the muzzle rimmed with a series of tiny shimmering amethysts now. "This was just to ensure that I had a weapon capable of dealing with my... our foes. It was, somewhat sadly unable to penetrate shields at all, but this new enhancement will render them as protective as thin vapor."

The reminder of Liara sobered Aethyta instantly and she nodded, pulling away from her hostess. "Yeah... And I'd probably best get back and see what my contacts have figured out so far. Probably not too much, but I can always hope..."

"...And you need my assistance to exit the Refuge." Joru's lips quirked in a faint smile and she gave a nod. "Alright. Shall we go?"

* * *

The forensic techs had been very busy overnight, as Vasir discovered when she stopped off at the local precinct headquarters. They had been through that combat zone with fine-grain scrubbers, and the forensic labs of nearly every major biochem lab in the local area had been tapped to provide additional techs and lab-time. First reports were in from most of them, cataloging the various samples sent to them. A couple had notes asking for further details of the scene, to satisfy their professional curiosity.

Vasir glanced through them, sipping at her Khevish-root tea as she did so. So many different genetic traces from that splatter, this many from that one. It took her nearly fifteen minutes to do a full accounting, and she sat back and contemplated things.

Sixty-seven different vorcha, bodies and traces. Eighteen different krogan identified by dental differences, another three only as traces of ash.

'Someone had used a goddess-blasted lot of fire in there. Were they trying to hide the bodies? If so, they weren't very good at it.' She sighed and leaned back in her chair.

The most intriguing report so far was the one on the metallurgy of samples taken from the edge of the hole. She gave a faint smile as it confirmed her initial idea, that something had hit that chunk of metal, nearly 10 centimeters thick, with enough heat to boil it away in under a second. The edges of the hole were angled, showing the zone of heat had been more of a cone-shape than a more constrained stream. The edges of that hole had shown a remarkably sharp fall-off in heat, though. It was almost as if the heat had been confined somehow.

She'd heard of something that a few of the humans she had talked with called a 'plasma-flamethrower', something that used focused magnetic fields to confine a stream of star-hot plasma. Apparently, it was mostly designed as a vehicle-mounted device for clearing obstacles, but it was still in the theoretical stages.

On the other hand, a badly-manufactured prototype might be capable of doing this...

She looked up as the Detective she had worked with tapped on her door. She looked drawn, as if she had been up all night. "The computer techs got back to me. They managed to pry some data off a few of the more protected datacores."

Vasir sat up sharply, an eager smile playing at her lips, "And?"

"Not much, I'm afraid. We can use part of the financial data to put the squeeze on local Blood Pack activities for a while, but I doubt we found their major source of cash. On the other hand, one of the sub-sectors had a few interesting images."

The detective stepped around to plug the OSD into the desk's input socket, and Tela rapidly brought up a series of images hovering over the hologram emitters embedded in the desktop. Both of them flicked through the distorted, static-ridden still images, noting the krogan and vorcha, evidently fighting for their lives.

What caught Vasir's attention, though, was the figure that was in each of them. Evidently fairly tall, though the high-angle of the camera somewhat obscured that. The most distinctive feature was the long tail, held arched or used to assist with balance, apparently. One image showed the figure holding a krogan in its hands, balanced on one leg, and the tail sweeping behind, evidently caught in mid-throw.

"That our target? It's just one person, though."

"Here." The detective brought up another image, "This was one of the last ones."

This one was shot from a camera that was closer to the action. The figure's features were still indistinct, but this time mostly due to heat distortion. Fire cloaked her hands all the way up to the bicep, a stream of it wrapped around the vorcha she held by the throat. The tail was visible, as were a pair of horns that rose from the temples and swept back. It wasn't clear, given the distortion caused by both the fire and the damage to the servers, but Vasir thought that her mouth might have been open. The fire seemed to be flowing off the figure and wrapping around the vorcha, which was arched and trying to break her (to judge by the chest, the figure was female) grip on his throat. Several portions of it had already been burned to the bone.

Vasir gave a low whistle. "Well, that's certainly unusual." She studied the face, as much as she could make it out, "We'll have to keep an eye out for this one..."

* * *

She hadn't been expecting the call, but she picked it up between the first and second rings when the caller ID popped up Aethyta's name. Her breathless greeting mirrored her excitement, "Did you find-" Benezia broke off, seeing the condition her lover was in.

Aethyta's face was blotched an indigo so dark it was almost purple under the eyes, and pale everywhere else. her crest had actually started to droop slightly to the side her head was leaning, and the bottle of ice brandy (not Serrice, with that label) was just in the view of the pickup as Aethyta leaned on one elbow, toying with the glass with her other hand.

"Heyyy, Nezzie... Nuh, Dinn't fin' her, not yet."

Benezia's heart began to beat again. The towering drunkenness of her former mate might have indicated that she had found Liara, in a less than ideal state. "Goddess, above, you're drunk!"

"Nah'zz drunk as I should be." The asari in the picture managed to fumble the bottle over and pour a hefty swig into the glass, knocking it back like she and Benezia used to do shots at the bar. Back when they were a couple.

"Why, what's happened? You haven't found her yet?"

"Nah... Chehhk't Thhhrm, though. Waz there, but gone. Lotta Geth there. Damn, she moved fast."

"Liara?" Benezia puzzled over Aethyta's drunkenly slurred speech.

"Nah-nah. Othr girl. Young'un. lessn' Liara. Moved like... like... like a drink." She suited action to word, not bothering with the glass this time and taking a swig direct from the bottle. it was already half-gone, and knowing Aethyta, that hadn't've been her first bottle.

"Who? Why was she there?"

"Sai her name waz... Jona. Thazza lie, though. Said she waz thurr to ssee Liara. Hadda thing in her head, wann'd help gettin' it out."

Benezia blinked, trying to parse. "I don't suppose that would have made more sense if you were sober?"

Aethyta barked a laugh, "Heh, prolly not. I'm... quite sloshed right now." She did manage to get her tongue under control for a bit, her wandering gaze (which had dropped to Benezia's impressive bustline) wandering back to focus on her face. "Damn, you're even more beautiful than last time I saw you."

The elder matriarch fought down her blush, "That's neither here nor there, Aethyta. _Why_ are you drunk?"

"Heh. Spen'... Spent the night at her place. Gotta damn fine view. Kitchen an' everything." The slur was starting to come back as Aethyta's eyes unfocused.

"...You spent the night in the apartment of a girl younger than Liara?"

"Nah like that, Nezzie!" The hologram floating over Benezia's comm-console huffed at her, "She tol' me a lotta stuff, an' it waz late, an' I waz tired."

"Right, so...?"

"Sheh tol' me all kinza crazy stuff. Stuffa shoudn' say here." That caught Benezia's attention. "Shezza good kid, gotta lot on her shouldrzz."

"Right." Benezia was already mentally mapping her route. First, the bedroom closet, start packing, "I'm going to close down soon, Thyta. Get drunk if you have to, but for the goddess's sake, make sure you stay put, alright? We don't want a repeat of that one time-"

"Yah, yah, yah always gotta brin' that'un up, don'tcha?"

A faint smile touched Benezia's lips. After packing, call the shuttleport, get her yacht ready for departure. "Of course I do. I care about you, Thyta."

The drunken asari's features softened, and she gave a sappy smile. By this point, her elbow had slowly slid out so her chin was almost on the vidplate. "Thazza good girllll. Alwayz did loveya, Nezzie. Bestestest giirl I evah knew." A tear trickled from Aethyta's eye, "Damn them bitches, shoulda married yah when I hadda chance."

Benezia gave a wan smile. Old romances were sometimes the hardest, especially between asari. She had been an up-and-coming member of the Council of Matriarchs around the time of Liara's birth, part of the moderate party. Aethyta, however, had been a radical, calling for increased militarization and the training of commandos from a young age, instead of starting at the end of maidenhood like most of them did. Aethyt's views were not popular in the Council, and to preserve her political position, Benezia had been forced into severing ties with the father of her child, a decision she sometimes regretted.

"I'll see you again soon, Aethyta. Keep yourself well, and we'll talk more when I get there."

Aethyta gave her a soft smile, which blurred and vanished as Benezia cut the comm. She was already in motion as the hologram dissipated, grabbing up the handset as she all but ran into her bedroom. She dialed with her thumb as she threw open the closet and dragged out a week-long luggage case. "Yes, Serrice Shuttleport? I am Matriarch Benezia, please put me through to my private hanger?"

* * *

Executor Palin arrived in his office to find that he had had not nearly enough kava-juice this morning. On his console was gently spinning the SPECTRE seal, indicating a priority communication that had most likely bypassed his secretary entirely.

He sighed and rubbed his left mandible, where a graze in the line of duty more than a decade ago still twinged. 'Best to get this over with.'

Sitting, he activated the Comm, "Executor Palin here. This line is secure. What is it that you need, Spectre?"

A familiar asari face appeared over his vidplate, and he actually relaxed slightly. Tela Vasir wasn't bad, as Spectres went. She (usually) had time to fill out the proper paperwork, and (usually) didn't go overboard with abuse of her powers, though there still was that open file on the death of the hanar ambassador to the Volus Protectorate a few decades ago.

"Actually, if you'd care to send me the file on the prisoner who broke out of SuperMax a week or two ago, I might be able to do your job for you."

His brows furrowed at that, his mandibles tightening involuntarily, "We have that situation well under control, Spectre, we do not need-"

"I don't think you do." She always was one to be brutally honest, something Palin secretly approved of.

"And why do you think that?"

"Because, unless I'm much mistaken, she's turned up again. On Illium." the asari's eyes glittered as she gave a faint smile, "And I think this one is going to need all the help we can get to take down."

* * *

**AN:** Well, this one went a lot faster than the previous one and turned out almost the same size. Maybe I'm starting to finally figure out how to write these things in a semi-consistent fashion! Yay! ^^ I'd like to thank both EratusEnigma and Vipermagi for their assistance with this, and all you lovely readers who take the time to read my confused ramblings. ^^ Thank you again, and please, if you read it, please review it! I don't care if you liked it or thought it was shit, any bit of feedback helps me make these things better!**  
**


	8. Chapter 8: Knowing Jack

**Ripples in the Stream**

A D&amp;D / Shadowrun / Mass Effect crossover  
by Vyrexuviel

Disclaimer: The author of this story does not, in any way, derive any profit from the story. D&amp;D, Shadowrun and Mass Effect are the property of their respective copyright holders. Jorukaia and other unfamiliar characters in this story, however, are mine.

* * *

Matriarch Benezia T'soni. Now, there was a name to draw attention. Her unexpected arrival at Illium was enough to send the upper-crust of the rich and famous on this most outward of the asari colonies into something of a tizzy behind closed doors. The last time such an illustrious matriarch had arrived here, she had come only to extricate her wayward daughter from legal entanglement with some of Illium's unique legal tripwires.

This time, no one knew why one of the most powerful matriarchs on the Circle of Matriarchs was coming to Illium, and the not-knowing was driving certain individuals crazy with apprehension.

Due to security and logistical concerns, the T'soni private yacht did not dock at Nos Astra, the largest starport on Illium. The reasons for this were twofold. First, the starship was her private property, and it had to be ready for a quick getaway, if necessary to preserve the matriarch's life. Second, it was the size of a cruiser, being an older style of asari cruiser, and thus not capable of planetary landing. Luckily for her, Nos Astra boasted a geosynchronous docking station for such large ships, along with several orbital tethers to the surface proper. The gleaming hull of her yacht slid smoothly to a stop a few kilometers from that station, and one of her private shuttles took her, and her entourage, to the surface.

Benezia had been a creature of politics and high society for many centuries, longer than some of the "movers and shakers" of Illium society had been alive. She had taken after her great grandmother in that regard, first learning the art of polite conversation at her grandmother's knee, then later becoming her secretary and, when grandmother grew old and frail in the last extremity of her years, her agent in the political arena.

The T'soni family had been known for breeding good diplomats and powerful matriarchs for more than two thousand years, though not necessarily within the same generation. Benezia played to type, tall, regal, calm and poised.

Her face betrayed not a whisper of her bitter wish that she could scream at the simpering twit, who was giving her a guided tour of Nos Astra's starport and shooting her bodyguards uncertain little glances.

Benezia's nerve had been stretched to the finest of threads over the past week. First the call from her daughter, at first quite normal, then utterly terrifying. Calling Aethyta immediately, she had begun to slowly disentangle her schedule for the next few months, but such was her enmeshment in Thessian politics that it would take some time to do that. Aethyta, however, despite being a matriarch and just as powerful as Benezia herself, in her own way, had been able to set off for Therum within the hour. Benezia now regretted she could not have done the same, though she knew that it wouldn't have made a difference.

The agonized waiting, with no word save the confirmation that Liara was gone, had driven her into seclusion, though she had taken the time to visit the Temple of Athame, seeking a soothing balm for her tearing nerves. The unexpected sympathy of one of the priestesses, a matron named Shai'zhri, had broken the matriarch's steel resolve, and she had left the temple with tear-streaked makeup, but a much lighter heart.

Now, however, her nerves were once again jangling with her anxiety, frayed to the point where only centuries of iron control kept her from telling this twit to shut her blabbering mouth and get out of her sight.

* * *

"You're looking good, Benezia." Aethyta offered her a teacup and saucer with one hand as she set the teapot back on the tray.

Benezia accepted it with a nod, seated in her chair in a fashion that would have had the busy-bodies back on Thessia whispering in shock. Instead of being perched regally, with back straight 0and eyes watchful, as was her perennial habit, Benezia was hunched, slouched, and actually had her feet tucked up under her in the chair itself. Her long robe was in some mild disarray, a few of the underlayers folded and bunched by her unusual posture. "We both know that's a lie, Aethyta. We should be frank with each other when it's just the two of us."

"Suit yourself." Aethyta sprawled on the couch opposite the small table between the pair. "You look like shit. Have you slept at all?"

Benezia grimaced slightly, the tea had a slightly bitter aftertaste. "A little. A few hours, here and there."

Her old lover gave an understanding nod, "I went the entire trip to Therum awake. Damned near crash-landed, I was so goddamn tired."

"You didn't though."

"I didn't have to deal with backstabbing murderous cutthroat bitches either."

Benezia gave a faintly pained smile at that. Aethyta had never much liked the niceties of politics, being a far more blunt and direct personality. Not that Benezia was bad for preferring more subtle methods of spreading her ideas, just different. That love had bloomed between the pair was still something of a marvel. The raucous, wild-child and the politician's daughter.

"Let us not re-open old wounds, please."

Aethyta gave a faint twitch, but nodded. "There wasn't any sign of her when I got to Therum, but I did run into a squad of geth down in the cavern her team was exploring."

"Geth?" Benezia sat up straighter, her expression turning puzzled, "Beyond the Veil? I thought-"

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before. Turns out, they seem to have just been biding their time. Now, there're dozens of reports of Geth sitings, and figuring out which ones are in a position to have been the ones that took Liara is damn close to impossible."

Benezia gave a world-weary sigh and slumped back into her chair. She couldn't quite help the soft, almost inaudible sob that escaped her as she did, but Aethyta's keen ear did. The younger matriarch got to her feet, slid around the side of the chair, and was massaging Benezia's neck before the older woman could protest.

"Goddess above, Nezzie, you're tighter than a screw two turns past lock." Knowing fingers dug into pressure points, and Benezia let her head fall forward with a relieved groan.

"Mmmmm... You always did know how to relax me."

"I had to learn some way to get you to let me into your bed." Aethyta's fingers kneaded, slower now, more sensual than massaging, now that the worst of the tension was smoothed away.

A tap drew Benezia's attention to a young asari standing at the doorway, gazing at her with a strange expression. Aethyta smiled faintly to her, moving around to rest a hand on the youngster's shoulder. "Ahh, my apologies for not introducing you first. Benezia, meet Jona Siberys. She's a girl I picked up on Therum. She's agreed to help us find your daughter."

Despite her soul-deep weariness, Benezia drew herself up into her habitual regal posture, giving the young one a slow nod as she gathered her somewhat scattered wits. Goddess, she was tired of this. "It is well to meet you, young maiden. Come, sit, and we may converse on your contributions to the search."

A moment's hesitation passed before the young girl, no more than Liara's age, came to sit near the old matriarch. "Good to see you, Matriarch. I trust all is well with you? Well, aside from our current task?"

The T'soni Matriarch had to hand it to the youngster, she knew her manners. "I am well, though a touch fatigued. I would prefer that we keep the pleasantries to a minimum, however. Just what sort of skills do you offer to our endeavors?"

"I can fight, track, and have sources of information that are hard to come by. I also have the contents of a damaged prothean beacon in my head, and want them the fuck _out_." the youngster's teeth gritted as she massaged her temple. Benezia shot Aethyta a surprised glare, which Aethyta deflected with a shrug of one shoulder.

"I see. Well, perhaps we could find a use for you."

"You need me, Matriarch. More than you realize." The young woman's eyes were an odd, pale yellow, as they gazed intently into Benezia's own light-blues. "Your daughter was targeted because she had information that would be vital to- someone. I have no doubt he has her in custody right now and is doing his best to extract the information he needs from her. How long, in your honest opinion, could Liara hold out before breaking?"

* * *

Aethyta was rather put out that Benezia hadn't even glanced at her nightie, but she knew how focused the older asari could be. "C'mon, Nezzie, it's time for bed."

The matriarch made an impatient gesture as Aethyta gently slid her arms around Benezia's waist. Nezzie had been sitting at that console for the past six hours, had hardly eaten anything, and it was already into the wee hours of the morning. "I can't, 'Thyta, I just can't."

"Nightmares?" At Benezia's slight nod, she gave a sigh and hugged her softly, "Doesn't matter. You need the sleep, Nezzie, or you're going to be no use at all."

Benezia's sigh of frustrated agreement was long and harsh, but she got out of the chair without having to be dragged out. "What would I do without you, 'Thyta?"

"Probably go completely insane." Aethyta gave the older woman a slight smile, "Don't worry, the news will still be there in the morning. Why don't you tell me a bit about what you've figured out while we get ready for bed?" Aethyta was already ready for bed, had been for the last three hours.

"Well, all of it is negative so far. Liara hasn't used any of the alternative methods I made sure she memorized before letting her go off on that thrice-blasted trip..." Aethyta hugged her former lover tighter, letting Benezia cling tightly to her.

"Alright, so she's being kept in a place where she doesn't have extranet access. We already figured that part out. Anything else?"

Benezia shook her head, "No, nothing. Well, no, I won't say that, there was something, but it's not related." She gave a faint sigh as Aethyta untied her sash and removed the older woman's robe.

"Mmmh? What? I haven't been keeping up with the news of late."

"Well, Saren Arterius, you know, the turian Spectre? He's been officially struck from the roster this morning."

"Really? He must have done something huge to get that, he always was a loose cannon." She slid a soft, silken nightgown over Benezia's shoulders, not something too alluring, she didn't want to get all worked up herself tonight, and sat her friend down on the bed, gently massaging her shoulders.

Benezia gave a soft laugh, "You could say that. He was implicated as part of, if not the one behind, that attack on Eden Prime."

Aethyta's fingers paused, but only for a moment, "That human colony? The geth attacked there, didn't they? Might that not be related to the geth that abducted Liara?"

"No way to know. The Geth are attacking in all sorts of strange places. And even if he is involved, no one knows where he is." The older woman gave a deep sigh, letting her head fall forward under Aethyta's strong, skillful fingers.

"Didn't I hear something a while back about a prothean site on Eden Prime? Or at least a dig site uncovered by new excavation?"

Benezia gave a shrug, "I don't know, maybe. Goddess, that feels good..."

The younger of the two matriarchs gave a gentle smile, pressing a bit deeper and coaxing Benezia towards sleep, "Well, whatever it is, I'm sure it'll still be there when you wake up." She had to smother a laugh as her former lover gave a huge yawn.

"Yes, I suppose. Goddess, I'm tired..."

"I hadn't pegged you as a particularly religious type, Nezzie." True, she hadn't been very religious back in her matron days, but almost all Matriarchs had to at least pay lip-service to the Goddess.

"I'm not. But, well. For the past few days, I've been talking with Priestess Shai'zhri at the Temple. She's been so kind and understanding, giving me an ear to which I could pour out my troubles without having to hold back."

"Ahh... Well, you sleep, and tomorrow we can see what else we can figure out, alright?"

Benezia gave a nod, shifting and sliding into bed. Aethyta remembered that she liked to spread out, but now, she curled up on one side of the bed, as if trying to shut out the world entirely. She waited, slowly stroking the other woman's shoulder and back until she felt the soothing rhythms of sleep calming her lover's mind.

Carefully, and as quietly as she could, she rose and slid out of the room, letting the door lock silently behind her. Benezia's console caught her eye, and, out of curiosity rather than the insatiable need Benezia had shown, she poked through the open screens.

News reports from a dozen different outlets, astrographic plots showing times and places of supposed geth attacks, along with color-coding to indicate the reliability of the reports. The entire galaxy was dappled with dark-red pinpricks of "fairly untrustworthy" reports, but there were a few nuclei of dark-blue "confirmed" ones, spreading to merge into the ocean of stars.

She pursed her lips, then noticed that Benezia's personal mail program was running in the background. Her lips quirked into a smile as she brought it up. She told herself she wouldn't read any of the important matriarch's correspondence, she wasn't some giddy maiden anymore.

Shareholder reports, stock quotes, dividend disbursements. The usual high-finance crap. Aethyta had to deal with more than her fair share of it herself, what with all the many corporations she held stock in, but Benezia was also on the board of directors of a few firms as well. There were a couple of notices of meetings she had missed, which made Aethyta squirm little.

Benezia really had put her entire life on hold the instant her daughter needed her, but possibly if she had been a bit more attentive- No. Benezia was already castigating herself quite enough on that score, no need to add to her torture.

One email, dated three days ago, caught her eye, with the heading "Notification of Director Inspection". She had told herself she wasn't going to read any of these, dammit, but she was curious and some of the spam that had managed to worm its way past the filters was downright hilarious. There was no such thing as 'asari viagra', her species had high enough libidos as it was.

The message unfolded in front of her eyes, and she almost clicked away from it out of self-defense to avoid the sudden barrage of lethally-legal phrases and the storm of paragraph-grenades. She scanned it, and missed it on the first pass, her eyes sliding shut with fatigue. She sighed, rubbed her eyes and reached to close the window when the name stabbed out at her and froze her as solid as a Stasis field.

Saren Arterius was on Noveria. The date of his visit was, Aethyta rapidly checked the clock, _yesterday_. He couldn't possibly have finished his business by now and gotten away, not with the entire galaxy now out hunting him.

Her lips curled and her eyes suddenly gleamed. "BENEZIA!"

* * *

Jack's day was being a bitch. One of those ones where good things kept happening, but also really fucking shitty things too. Take her current predicament for example. On the one hand, the job had gone without a hitch. Find a guy, let him know the score, put the fear of her into him. Scare the piss out of him, was how Aria had phrased it. Well, Jack had certainly done that, and gotten his shit too. That had been fun. Being the messenger of Aria's displeasure with the farther-flung members of her network of spies, informants, procurers and providers was one of the things Jack really loved about her new life. This particular shitstain had been overcharging Jack's boss and, once he already had her money, had had the sheer balls to jack the price on her. Aria did not like people who tried to extort her, and so had sent Jack to make her displeasure known.

Now, however, things were not fun, and Jack was breathing in the way her boss had taught her to keep the rage under control. Aria didn't like guns that fired themselves when dropped, and treated her operatives the same way: if you had a problem that would make you mess up a mission, she either didn't use you, or, if you were good enough otherwise to be valuable, got you the help you needed to do your job without shitting yourself.

Right now, it was testing Jack's rather strained patience, having to deal with the cops.

"Right, and after that?" The bitchy asari's voice was just whiny enough to make Jack's teeth grit.

"Then he said 'if you like varren that much, we've got a few who'd like to meet you'." Jack gave a faint smile, her eyes still closed. "I told him if he liked watching varren fuck that much, he should go join in."

"And was that when he pulled the gun?"

"Yep." Jack deliberately popped the P. "He told me to shut my mouth, or he'd stitch it shut."

That, at least, had made the asari wince. Prissy bitch. "I see. And then?"

"That's when the thunder rolled in..."

* * *

Getting pinned down by gangers, how fucking stupid was this?

A bullet pinged off the dumpster she was using for cover, which didn't smell as bad as she might have thought. There were five of them out there, Jack had smashed four already with her first shockwave. She didn't have more than a heavy pistol on her, and the gangs here seemed to prefer concealed shotguns when they really meant business. Or were Krogan.

She heard the roar of a krogan in bloodrage and smirked. She rolled out of cover to catch him in an overpowered Throw, smashing into his enraged face when he was just a meter away. The look on his face when his charge suddenly reversed directions was priceless, but the other four gangers had their selection of guns pointed in her direction.

Jack was many things, but stupid wasn't one of them. She rolled back into cover without waiting to see where the krogan landed, charging herself up for another shockwave to deal with the rest of them.

She was interrupted by a "What the-", which was rather abruptly cut off by a cry of pain. Human, not krogan. Meaty sounds ensued, and the thud of a body hitting the wall with considerable velocity.

Then it all went quiet. Too quiet. Jack could see again by that point, so she rolled out and saw a rather comical sight.

The Krogan was standing on tiptoe, his head thrown back, and pressed against the wall of the alleyway. An absolute monster of a handgun, more than thirty centimeters long Jack judged, was jammed under the krogan's chin, at such an angle that the shot, if and when the trigger was pulled, would angle back and blow the top of his head clean through his hump.

The most amusing thing about it all, though, was the fact that it was a petite little asari that held the krogan at bay.

Jack's gaze dropped to the floor, where the other gangers were resting. Four big hulking bruisers down, three curled up in little fetal balls of pain. the other one just sprawled limply, his head at an odd angle as he slumped against the wall.

"I suggest you drop the gun. My friend and I will be leaving. Once we're gone, you leave, is that clear?"

"Y-Yeah, fffuck, yeah." The krogan's voice was muffled, but his answer was backed up by him dropping the shotgun he had been holding. Jack wasn't about to let that thing go to waste, though. It had put a hole through both sides of the dumpster she had been hiding behind, and she wanted that thing, for its mods if nothing else. She scooped it up, making the krogan growl until the asari pressed the muzzle of her own gun a bit tighter under his chin.

Jack nodded at the girl, who angled her head in a 'get going' motion. The human smirked slightly and did so, sauntering rather than hurrying, and fiddling with her new toy until she reached the mouth of the alley. There, she let it collapse again and settled the big, beautiful monster into the bag she had had with her. Not a particularly big bag, but big enough to hold the stolen weapon, along with the other implements of her trade as Aria's messenger.

There was a shout from back down the alley, the sound of biotics being used, and a cry of pain. The asari backed out of the alley, gun in hand, but when she turned away from her target and faced Jack, she gave a grin. This close, Jack recognized her, the dark-blue asari with the pale-gold eyes that had been at that tournament!

Jack had told her boss about her when she had contacted Aria to report the job done, telling her how the girl had fought, the almost sensual brutality of how she had put down that Eclipse bitch, and a bit of the fight on the bridge, what little she had seen from her vantage point a few floors overhead. She hadn't been able to see much, but the dark blue asari standing alone on the bridge with a half-dozen krogan down in front of her had been an intriguing sight.

She gave her rescuer a crooked smile, was about to greet her, and that's when the cops turned up.

* * *

"The name's Jona." The asari tore into the platter of varren-ribs with gusto, making Jack grin at her.

"Jack." The girl had invited her out to dinner, to 'get the taste of all that ass-kissing out of our mouths'. Jack had laughed and taken her up on it. She had had to turn over the krogan's gun, but at least she got several scans of it and could have her own fabricated once she got somewhere with more relaxed fabrication laws.

"Nice to meet you formally, Jack." The asari grinned, a bit of barbecue sauce clinging to her chin, which she didn't even bother wiping up as she tore another chunk of meat off the bone.

"Gotta admit, I haven't seen an asari eat like you do before." Jack took another big bite of her burger. Fish Dog Food Factory wasn't exactly an upscale restaurant, but the portions were big, tasty and cheap.

The asari just grinned and sucked the shred of meat into her mouth, tucking the last bit in with her tongue. "I grew up having to kill my own food. Kinda gives you a different perspective on things."

Jack's brow shot up at that. "Kill it? What the hell kinda goddamn bitch of a mom does that to her kid?" Well, she should talk.

"The kind that died early." Aaand there were the feels.

"Fuck, sorry."

"Don't be, you didn't know." The asari tore another long strip from the rib and set the now-cleaned bone to one side, chewing enthusiastically.

"Still. Sorry. Look, I'll pay for it."

"Nothing doing, Jack, my treat. I've got the cash for it, I don't use much." She flagged down their waitress, "Yeah, we're gonna need at least one varren-sack for this. Damn good stuff, but even I can't eat it all in one sitting."

"Of course, Miss." The human woman smiled, making a note, "Anything else?"

"More fries," Jack mumbled around her latest bite of burger.

"Right you are, Ma'am. I'll be right back with those." She sauntered off, the 'happy varren' on her skirt seeming to wink at the pair.

Jona smirked as she glanced over at the hungry biotic. "Damn, you really do pack it in."

"Biotics, duh. Gotta eat five thousand calories to maintain body weight, and all that fucking shit."

The young asari across from her laughed and picked up another rib. "Damn straight." She paused, looking up at the vidplate mounted nearby. A few dozen of them were scattered around the place, playing various sports channels, this one had just cut to a short news segment. Jack looked up in time to spot the now-familiar blurry images of something dark against the Illium skyline, winging its way away from a stream of traffic. The ticker at the bottom, along with the subtitles, was relating the news that no new data on the "Great Bird of Illium" had come to light just yet, but that Spectre Tela Vasir had decided to become involved.

"Vasir, huh? Didn't think she was into bird-watching."

"Mmmm." After some hesitation, Jona put the rib back with the three others she hadn't finished yet. The pile of nine stripped bare bones stood as testament to her appetite. "Say, I'm not sure if you'd be interested, but I'm gonna be raising ship soon. I was thinking, I saw a bit of your fight with that bruiser back a few nights ago. You want to come with?"

Jack blinked in surprise. "What brought that on?" Aria had been rather specific in her instructions regarding this girl: go slow, get to know her, see if you can get her to go with you, and see if she'd make a useful asset. And here the girl was, inviting _her_ out on a jaunt to somewhere dangerous. Jack was beginning to wonder who was recruiting whom.

"I got something of a job coming up. I don't think it'll be too dangerous, but there's liable to be a scrap when we get to business. I could use someone to watch my back, who won't pull punches, or hesitate." The girl's eyes were direct, calm, but somehow almost pleading.

Jack hesitated. On the one hand, she liked this girl. She'd seen her fight with the sister and felt almost a kinship with the asari who could be so brutal. On the other hand, Aria had sent her to keep a low profile, getting involved in something big would not make Aria happy. Still... "...Fuck it, sure, why the fuck not?"

Jona grinned and nodded as the server arrived with more fries for Jack, and a takeout bag for Jona. "Great, thanks."

Once the waitress was gone again, Jona flicked on her omnitool, placing a call. "'Thyta? Yeah, it's Jona. Don't worry, I'll be there on time. Listen, I met someone who I think would help out a bunch. No, I don't think you've met her. I'll bring her around at the station, alright?" She heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes expressively at Jack, "No, 'Thyta, I'm not- Look, she already agreed to help out with our little business. Yes, _that_ business. I think she'd be good at it. Yeah, you'll get to meet her and decide for yourself. Alright, see you then."

"Family problems?"

Jona hesitated a moment, giving Jack an odd look, before shrugging and shutting off her omnitool again. "You could say something like that. She's not my mother, though. More like a colleague."

"So, where's this station then."

"Geosynch Station, top of the Tether. I'll get you the details in a bit. We raise ship tonight. I've got a few things to do before then." Her eyes twinkled, "Make sure to wear something elegant, by the way. We're working with a couple matriarchs."

Jack swore through a mouthful of burger and cleared her mouth with a swig of soda, "Just what the fuck have you gotten me into?"

* * *

The ration bar tasted like compressed, freeze-dried gelv-shit. And that was being charitable. Still, it helped steady his roiling stomach.

His latest interrogation session had been nipped in the bud by what he had found done to the girl. She had put a brave face on it, but the implications of what had been done sickened him to the point where he couldn't face her. Not yet, at any rate.

Spirits blast him for a fool, he had to be more careful around thralls. He had gotten a bit heated during the last session, the little girl had been so infuriating. At one point, he had threatened to have her-

He couldn't face it, not just yet. He had to get himself under control. At least the thrall had had the intelligence left to apply first aid to make certain that his prisoner wouldn't get infections or worse, and had even bandaged her horrific injuries, but the girl had forced him to see what had been done to her anyway, and that, more than anything else, had been the cause of his stomach's revolt.

Liara still had the sparkling fire she had had when she was first captured, while he was the one deteriorating under these interrogations.

He finished off the last of the ration bar, turning his mind to the topic at hand. His thief had contacted him and specified a time they could hash out the details of her payment, and it was almost time.

He settled himself at his desk, listening to the soothing sounds of the surf behind him and trying to quiet his jangled nerves. The chime alerted him, and he placed the call.

"Kasumi."

"Saren." Her hooded head appeared over his desk's vidplate. One of the new, expensive holographic systems, with a vastly higher resolution than the prior models, it let him study her features, as much as could be seen, in greater detail. "Right on time."

"I value punctuality. Speaking of which, I understand you have a package for me."

"Yep. It wasn't easy to get either, I'll need twenty percent more for unexpected expenses."

"Let's see it first."

The figure tapped a few keys, and a few images appeared to left and right of her face. Still shots, and a metallurgical scan running next to an animation of the long, spear-like artifact. He leaned forward, checking the images, and his mandibles split in a faint smile. "Excellent."

"I do good work. But that work comes at a price. Five hundred thousand should cover everything."

"Yes, yes. I'll have it transferred to your account." He wrenched his attention from the hovering image and turned back to the thief. "You'll probably want to lay low for a while, stealing a prothean artifact from under the noses of its guardians tends to put a target on one's back. I have access to a location that possesses all the amenities, and would allow you to wait for the heat to die down."

"Thanks, but no thanks, I have my own arrangements." The human woman gave him a smile, her eyes gleaming in the shadows under her hood. "If you'd be so good as to transfer the funds, I'll send you the details of the blind drop."

He tapped a few keys, sending the call and the associated images to one side of the holographic screen, while his financial program splayed open in the other. His eyes flicked through various accounts, siphoning enough out of them in inconspicuous amounts to make up the desired sum and rapidly shuffling it through several dummy fronts before depositing it into her numbered account. "Done. The funds should clear within the next forty hours. The drop?"

A soft ping indicated another file incoming from his contact, "There are the details. You won't be able to reach it before I have the cash, so if there's any problem with the funds, the drop will be empty."

"I understand. A pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Goto."

"Likewise." She gave him a cheery grin, "See you around the galaxy, Spectre." Her face dissolved into smoke as the connection was terminated.

He sat back and steeled his claws, letting the edges of his natural ones glide over the smooth, metal ones of his prosthetic. He'd lost his left arm several years ago, and while Citadel prosthetics were quite good, his Master had gifted him with a new one a few months back. He was scheduled to undergo further upgrades within the next few days, and he wasn't looking forward to it, but anything that made him more useful to his Master was necessary. He had a galaxy to save, after all, and if a little personal discomfort and existential angst were required for that, it was a price he'd gladly pay.

He wasn't sure why Nazara had had him negotiate with the galaxy's most notorious thief to obtain that particular artifact, but he didn't question his Master's motives. He couldn't, not with all that was at stake.

* * *

Vasir stepped through the door, a quick glance up, left and right took in the expanse of the shuttlebay. Nothing too fancy, just a disused hangar, though it was unusual for the hangar doors to be open when it wasn't in use. still, if her contact wanted the doors open, that was their problem. The Karman-Line Station hovered just above the atmosphere of Illium, suspended on the vast, thick cables of the orbital tether system that required some of the most advanced engineering in the galaxy to maintain. At the end of the more than forty-thousand-kilometer length bobbed the Geosynchronous Orbit Transfer Station, its own orbital speed precisely matching the rate at which the Groundside Station rotated beneath it, keeping the great cables taut.

The Karman-Line Station boasted more restaurants and hotels than hangar-days, but it was an important stop along the route from the surface to orbit. Shaped like a torus around the hexagonal array of cables, it facilitated the great cargo transfer cable cars running up and down the length of the orbital cables running from Station to Groundside. Originally, it had been a barracks and meal center for the workers assembling the titanic construction of the towering cables, dangled down lower and lower towards Illium's atmosphere until they linked up with the cables being boosted skyward from Groundside Station. Now, it was mostly a tourist trap, while the great cargo carriages ran skyward and earthward through the center.

This particular hangar bay was on the interior side, around midway through the station. Vasir didn't know why her contact had chosen this spot, but it wasn't her business to ask that, not when she claimed to have data on the whereabouts of a certain wanted fugitive.

There was only one person in the hangar when Vasir arrived, wearing an elegant, but simple cocktail dress which came down to her knees. Human, brunette, tanned skin and strangely exotic golden eyes as she turned from the open hangar doors to note Vasir's arrival. Vasir herself had come prepared, wearing her signature silver-and-midnight armor, though with the helmet off.

"You said you had intel for me?"

The woman crooked a smile at the Spectre, turning back to the view outside the kinetic barrier shield holding in the atmosphere. "Yes."

Vasir strode forward, setting her helmet on a nearby crate. Apparently, someone was using this disused hangar as a temporary storage shed. "Well?"

The woman did not speak for a long moment. "It is strange, isn't it?"

Tela's eyes narrowed, "What is?"

The woman sighed softly, motioning with her chin towards the view. "Your people have built such incredible wonders. Spires to rival the greatest dreams of fancy."

Her gaze tilted down, peering over the edge of the hangar bay's lip, "Below us is all that is Illium. And above, infinite possibilities."

Vasir frowned, "Get to the point."

The woman let out an amused breath, turning to the Spectre, "And there it is. The true voice of this age. Cynical. Devoid of passion, of wonder."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

The woman gave a faint smile. "My apologies. I tend to wax philosophic when I gaze upon the stars." She turned, giving the Spectre a look, though her body language was a mixture of open and closed. Hunched shoulders, arms crossed, but standing otherwise erect and with a frank, direct gaze. "I know you've been hunting for her."

"Define 'her' in this context." Vasir didn't want to take too many chances.

"Jorukaia."

Tela snapped a curt nod. "Start talking."

The woman paced slowly while she talked, her long legs elegant and graceful. "Tall, strong, durable. I heard she drunk three krogan into a stupor before I even got involved. I'm still piecing together what I know from a night where I got severely drunk, so please bear that in mind. What I do remember, however, was so horrifying that I had to mention it to someone."

The Spectre nodded faintly. Some of her informants had had similar stories, she recognized an ass-covering gesture when she heard one. "Alright. So what can you tell me? she's on Illium still?"

"Yes, but not for long. She'll be shipping out today, I think. Maybe tomorrow."

Well, that certainly put her on a timetable. "When? Which ship?"

The woman's dark, straight hair floated behind her as she shook her head, still pacing. "Don't remember that, even if I heard it at all."

"Damn. Then what do you remember?"

"That she's here for a reason. A mission-"

"On Illium?"

"No, Spectre. In this galaxy."

That brought Vasir up short, blinking at the woman in surprise. "This galaxy? She's _extragalactic_ in origin?" This girl had to be playing her, or had been played herself.

"I don't know, possibly? Either way, it doesn't matter. She said she's here to stop a war, by any means necessary."

"War? What war? There isn't any war going on right now." Well, not unless you counted the cold-war stalemate between the Batarian Hegemony and the Terminus Systems, or possibly the border skirmishes between Council Space and both of them.

"Not a war that's going on _now_. One that she says _will_ happen."

"...Right, and she claimed to see the future too?" Vasir was beginning to seriously suspect that this girl was either deranged, or had been fed a massive wad of varren-shit.

"No, not that. But she did have a convincing argument." The girl's hands raised, motioning with them as she talked. Quite expressive, even if somewhat vague. "Everyone knows that the Citadel is the heart of the relay network, sitting in the center like a spider in a web. All relays lead to the Citadel, eventually, and it makes sense that the biggest of them would be the central one. The Citadel makes itself the heart of your civilization by dint of being at the very center of it, both astro-politically and by the sort of geography you get by applying the relay network to the galaxy."

Vasir nodded, wondering where she was going. All this was schoolgirl stuff.

"So, what if the Citadel _controls_ the Relay Network?"

"No one's ever proven that, one way or the other."

The girl nodded, dismissing the point, "But no one's ever fully explored the Citadel either. We just got so far, then the expense of examining it further got too high and we gave up. We simply _don't know_ what's in the underlevels, for all we know the entire relay network might be a vast weapons system, designed to hold the entire galaxy under the prothean guns, ready to fire an asteroid at a world from anywhere in the galaxy. We simply _don't know_."

Vasir gave a dismissive nod of her own. "Theories like that have been floating around the extranet since long before your species discovered spaceflight, that's nothing new."

"But if the Citadel does control the relay network, then someone with the right access codes could conceivably shut it down. Turn off the _entire_ relay network at one stroke."

Vasir gave another nod. "It's been theorized before."

"I think someone's got the idea that the Citadel can do just that, and believes he has gotten a hold of the access codes to do it. However, because he doesn't want to be found out prematurely, he's trying to find a back door into the Citadel, one that isn't monitored and policed by the Citadel Fleet, and I think he's close to doing it."

"Really." Vasir was starting to get bored with this. The girl was just spouting off some two-bit conspiracy theories and linking them up into a chain of terrorizing suppositions.

"Saren's hunting for the Conduit and Jorukaia intends to stop him from finding it, or if he does find it, from making effective use of it."

Vasir straightened, her gaze growing hard, "And just where did you hear _that_."

"Direct from Jorukaia herself." The girl was smiling faintly, now that she'd gotten Vasir's attention again. "Saren has either been handed a colossal bit of misinformation, been manipulated into a potential betrayal of the Council, or has actually gone insane, I don't know which, and neither did Joru. The point is that Saren believes that he's got the capability to cripple, if not outright destroy the entire galactic political structure in one stroke. What he intends to do with that power is of no consequence, _he must not be allowed to use it at all_."

Tela had been a Spectre for a good century by now, she'd long learned to sift genuine intelligence from the crackpots spinning theories. "So what do you want for this little tidbit."

"I'm not done yet, Spectre. Regardless of his motivations, or the accuracy of his beliefs, I see that there's a number of potential outcomes to this. First, Jorukaia's mistaken and Saren isn't up to anything bad, in which case, he'll capture her and bring her in when she confronts him." She held up one finger.

"Second, Saren is planning some sort of coup, but has faulty intel and won't find a back route into the Citadel with which to pursue it, in which case, he'll be found and prosecuted." Another finger was raised.

"Third, Saren finds the conduit, but wasn't intending to do more than secure a security breach, in which case he comes in and explains himself to the Council and all is forgiven." A third finger joins the first two.

"Fourth, Saren does have designs on power, and he can find the conduit." She turned to give a level gaze at the Spectre. "In that case, he has to be found and stopped before he can put his plans into effect. If the relay network is shut down for any significant length of time, it'll throw your civilization into chaos. A day without relay travel is a major inconvenience. A week? A month? A year? That would destroy the Council as assuredly as a fission bomb going off inside the Council Chambers."

Vasir shivered slightly. The girl was right. There were several potential outcomes to this, but, "So Jorukaia intends to go after Saren, to forestall this worst-case scenario then?"

"Exactly. She'd be overjoyed to find out she's wrong, I think. But if she's _right_ and the galaxy stands on the brink of an existential threat? Better to risk her own life in the protection of the galactic peace." Those pale-gold eyes seem to glitter a bit as the girl smiles at her. "Sounds like she's doing your job for you, huh?"

Vasir glowered at the girl. "Right, so that's all fine and dandy, but it doesn't give me any insight into how to find the girl herself."

"She's older than you are, Vasir, and has hundreds of years of combat experience. As to where she is, well, she's closer than you think."

'That cunning bitch.' Vasir had her gun out and up even as those golden eyes went molten, and a suddenly very dark-skinned woman's hand was grasping her wrist. The bullet smashed into her target's left bicep, tearing a long grove through the scales before spraying blood on the wall. The astonishingly strong woman slid around the Spectre, twisting her hand up behind her back, and one long arm grasping her other wrist to hold her still against the taller woman's chest. Vasir kicked backward, but the angle was wrong, and she felt something snake around her ankles, binding them together. A glance down showed the long tail trapping her legs and she spat out a string of curses, mostly at herself for forgetting about that.

Joru's breath was hot on the side of her cheek, "We're working towards the same end, Vasir; the preservation of the galaxy. I don't want to fight you, but the scenario I outlined leaves us no margin for error. There is no contingency plan, no fail-safe. If Saren does indeed have the information he needs to shut down the Relays, and can indeed find an unguarded route back to the Citadel, and he does indeed have a patron that desires such disruption, then I'm the only thing stopping him."

"What patron?" She almost spat out the words, trapped in the taller woman's iron grip. It wasn't that uncomfortable, though the darastrix's grip was tight enough to prevent Vasir from getting the leverage needed to break free.

"Saren is working with the Geth. They're probably trying to destabilize the Council prior to a full-scale invasion, and with the Relays under their control, they'd be able to mop up even the vaunted Turian Fleets with ease."

Vasir quit trying to struggle. Joru was insane, but... It was a potential threat. Blown out of proportion, sure, but she was a nutter. And so strong she didn't even have to work to hold Vasir immobile. On the other hand, she was in point-blank range. "Fine. I get it. I'll look into Saren."

"That's all I ask, Spectre." Vasir didn't wait for anything else. She pulsed her biotics violently, flaring out with a Throw in all directions. She felt herself freed, and dropped into a roll, bringing her gun up.

Jorukaia had vanished.

"...FUCK!"

* * *

**AN:** Merry Christmas to you all! Or whatever holiday you celebrate! I had intended to get this one out earlier, but I realized I had something of a major plot hole in dire need of some continuity-cement. I hope things are going well for you, and that you enjoy this belated X-mas gift. ^^ It's shorter than the last two, but this was a natural stopping point. The next chapter should include the crossing to Noveria, as well as dealing with the bureaucracy, while Vasir plays catchup and A Team Is Assembled to deal with their little darastrix problem. Vasir does _not_ like being helpless. Hehehehe...


	9. Chapter 9: Lull Before The Storm

**Ripples in the Stream**

A D&amp;D / Shadowrun / Mass Effect crossover by Vyrexuviel

Disclaimer: The author of this story does not, in any way, derive any profit from the story. D&amp;D, Shadowrun and Mass Effect are the property of their respective copyright holders. Jorukaia and other unfamiliar characters in this story, however, are mine.

* * *

The showers were, like everything on board Benezia's personal yacht, simple, but elegant. Smoothly curved corners, individual shower-areas marked out by slightly raised lips and faintly sloped floors down to the drain, and the narrow, slender rails that ran around the ceiling, to provide privacy curtains, should they be needed.

Since the commando squad wasn't prudish, they had remained unused for as long as anyone cared to remember.

The sounds of showering were mingled with the sounds of chatter between the various women of the squad. Cleaning up after a hard workout was a good way to relax and knit the group tight again, especially after the rivalries brought to the fore for spars in the ring. But there was a particular topic that dominated discussion this time around.

"So you hear about the new girl?" asked one of the commandos.

"Yeah, who is she?"

"Not sure, I heard that the matriarch hand-picked her though."

Soap was passed back and forth as various ladies used it, new bars pulled from dispensers as needed. "Hmmph. Well, if she wants to measure up to our standards, she'll have to train hard."

"I heard she already has her own training regimen."

"Really? Did you get a look at it?"

"_I_ heard she's only a kid, less than fifty."

"What the hell was the matriarch thinking, pulling a kid like that?!"

The squad leader was older, and more experienced, and hadn't contributed as much to the discussion, "Ours is not to question the wisdom of the matriarchs."

"Well, if the matriarch _did_ pick her out so young, and I'm not convinced of that, then she must be some sort of prodigy."

"As I said: she'll have to prove she can keep up with us, if she's going to join the matriarch's bodyguard."

"I heard that she spent a long time with the Matriarch when we left orbit, I wonder what they were doing?"

"Shut it, ladies. Five more minutes, then out to the armory for weapons drills." The older asari smirked as one cry of protest rose from further down the line.

"Awwww, but I wanted to get my scalp really clean this time!"

"You can do it in five minutes if you didn't take so long enjoying it, Lyris."

"Five minutes, ladies, then I shut off the hot water. Hop to it!"

* * *

The slender, petite asari who was already down at the range when Shava squad arrived surprised a few of them, but they were professional enough not to comment. More than a few of them took notice of her stance, and a few suppressed smiles as the girl popped off shots from a heavy pistol one handed. The ones that didn't smile were the ones that noticed that most of her shots were bulls-eyes.

The squad worked the ranges in rotation; pistols, assault rifles, sniper rifles and shotguns. The petite asari stayed over at her end of the range, and seemed content to stick with just the heavy pistol, occasionally switching hands.

"You want some company?"

The girl looked up at the smiling, lithe commando beside her, and shrugged, "It's a free range."

Lyris pursed her lips and her smile turned faintly exasperated. She'd noticed the kid's shots going downrange fairly accurately, but her stance was all wrong for that sort of shooting. Still, it wasn't her job to instruct her, nor did the girl seem to want help, so...

"I'm Lyris. One of the Matriarch's personal guard."

The girl gave a faint nod, sighting with both eyes, Lyris noted with approval. "Jona Siberys."

So _this_ was the youngster that the Matriarch had picked up. Lyris restrained her curiosity for a while, sighting her own weapon downrange and adding to the minor cacophony in the range for a while.

"Mind if I try a different weapon?"

The unexpected comment threw off her aim, but only so that she 'winged' the target instead of hitting center-mass, "Hmm?"

The girl tapped a different gun with a finger. It was on the counter in front of her, a huge, black-metal beast of a thing that would have looked more at home in a krogan's fist than on board an asari yacht. "I need to get in some practice, and see if the new mod I installed yesterday works as intended."

Lyris gave a blink of surprise, lowering her own pistol to glance at the youngster, "I'm not the range-mistress, you should take it up with Kaltia over there." She angled her head down the range towards the asari behind the desk.

The kid nodded and picked up the gun, making sure the slide was locked and the chamber was visible, before walking off towards the range-mistress. Lyris approved, the kid knew how to treat a gun with respect. She watched for a moment then returned to her own target-shooting.

The range was set up to either provide static targets, or a range of shifting ones, both high and low and left to right. Sometimes, to make things more difficult, one of them would loft targets with biotics and try her best to make it hard to hit while the rest of the squad took shots at it. There were even a few targets that had built-in shields, to test weapons with shield-piercing ammunition.

Lyris was so focused on her target shooting she didn't notice the kid return until she nudged a pair of ear-protectors at her. Technically, they were supposed to wear them at all times inside the range, but most guns didn't produce enough bang, even when every slot on the range was occupied, to make enough noise to be bothersome. Loud, sure, but no more-so than a someone shouting.

"What're these for?"

"Trust me, you'll want them." The girl hefted the gun, racked a slide on it with a heavy-sounding cha-chunk and sighted downrange with the gun held in both hands. "Going hot."

Lyris was fond of being able to hear, and she'd gotten a look at the muzzle of that thing as the girl fiddled with it. Not only was a big, it included two large holes on either side, drilled into the very end of the barrel. She had just put the earphones on when a belch of fire burst from the muzzle, shockingly bright, much brighter than the simulated muzzle-flashes of her own guns. Most weapons didn't use them for actual combat, being able to hide where you were shooting from was a very useful thing on the battlefield.

This gun, however, made absolutely no pretense to stealth at all. Aside from the tremendous burst of fire, a thunderous BOOM rolled around the range like one of those silly, elastic-rubber balls hurled into a glass case. Even through her ear-protectors Lyris cried out in surprise at the sheer volume of the retort. The target the girl was shooting at was knocked flat by the impact, but not before Lyris saw the massive, ugly hole the bullet tore through it.

"Goddess, girl, just what kind of gun is that?"

"An antique, I guess. It's something I found in the Terminus systems." She hefted it, flicked a switch. "Purely mechanical, no electronics. Nothing to hack."

Lyris could see how that could be useful. Disabling the enemy's weapons was a very viable tactic in the modern battlefield. But purely mechanical guns were a bitch to aim and shoot, and entirely abandoned for the convenience and accuracy of electronic-actuated weapons. Not to mention you couldn't build a mechanical weapon that utilized the mass effect. Mass effect weapons used a precisely modulated dark energy field to lighten the round as it sped down the barrel, accelerated by precisely timed magnetic fields generated along its length. All that took pretty delicate and precise control, and had to be managed by computer.

But every computer could be hacked, it was just a matter of gaining access, and time.

This time when the young girl fired, it wasn't a single thunderclap that echoed downrange, but a trio of them. Three mighty blasts that almost tore the metal target from its stand, even though one of them clipped the outside corner.

Lyris was neglecting her own shooting, she knew, but how the kid could keep going with that thing without more serious protection than the ear protectors was beyond her. It got worse when the kid started snapping off shots one-handed, each one savage enough to jerk her arm upwards slightly.

That level of recoil was all but unheard of for standardized arms around the galaxy. Every effort had been made to reduce felt-recoil of almost every weapon in the arsenal, for the simple fact that if they didn't, most weapons would be unusable. They accelerated their payloads towards the target with such speed that even with the mass effect reducing the round's mass to near non-existent, the recoil was still powerful. Most of that was bled off with mass effect fields, but more of it was handled with a recoiling barrel.

This ancient beast of a killing machine had none of that. It was solid, dark and forbidding, with surprisingly delicate and elegant scroll work worked into the barrel and hand-grip, more of it tracing up over the guts of the gun. Something glittered at the muzzle each time the flash of fire belched from it as well, and weirdly, part of the mechanism seemed to consist of some sort of transparent crystal. "Just what _is_ that thing?"

Jona stopped firing and looked up at Lyris. Then over at the rest of the squad, who were at the far side of the range and staring over at her. She shrugged, flicked the switch and set the gun down. "Originally, I think it was a shotgun, but whoever the bastard was that I stole it from had modified it into that."

"_That_ was a _shotgun?_" That was Shaiveris, the squad's resident weapons buff. Lyris rolled her eyes as the older asari stepped closer to take a look, "I've seen a few of the ancient chemical propellant designs, but that thing doesn't seem to be anything like them."

"I think it started life as a human weapon. 12-gauge shotgun, stock removed, shortened barrel, reworked mechanism. It's actually capable of surprisingly quick full-auto, but that'd break my grip, and I don't think we want a randomly-firing weapon stuck on fully automatic fire getting loose in here."

The entire squad shuddered as one, and Lyris nodded vehemently, praising the girl a bit for her restraint.

"So how does the action work? I've read up on these sorts of things, you said it was all mechanical?"

"Yeah." The girl started to go into detail, which was lost on Lyris, but she studied the girl's face all the same.

Something about her struck Lyris as both false and true. She was young, very young, but still of an age to move out of her parents' house. Maybe she had had a bad home-life, hence her interest in guns at such a young age. Maybe there was something about it that had drawn the Matriarch's attention.

Still, there was something about the way she talked, as if she were older than she should be, physically, that piqued Lyris's curiosity.

She'd have to watch this one.

* * *

The doctor's prim, firm lips pissed Jack off, as the slender asari carefully worked Jack's shoulder back into its socket with a soft, wet popping sound. Like most of the asari on this ship, she used her biotics for as many things as she could get away with, something that puzzled Jack, but she ignored the riddle as best she could. Focusing on the pain helped.

"There we go. I'm going to put your arm in a sling for the rest of the trip, I don't want you re-injuring it. Here, this should help with the pain."

Jack hated needles almost as much as she hated Cerberus, so she politely (for her) declined the offer of a painkiller. It clearly puzzled the doctor, and that made Jack grin inwardly. 'Turnabout is fair play, prissy blue bitch.'

"Alright, but if it starts hurting worse, or you feel it starting to swell up, come see me at once, and I want to see you in here in the morning regardless. A shoulder injury like that could turn nasty, and I don't have human-specific antibiotics handy."

"Right, right." Jack shifted up to her feet, wincing a bit as the sling tugged a bit on her shoulder.

The doc let her out without too much fanfare, most of that was being reserved for the commando at the other end of the small sickbay. Her left foot was already bandaged, the badly sprained ankle immobilized, and the sour look on the asari's face bespoke more annoyance than pain.

She hadn't meant for things to go that far, but Jack's temper had gotten the better of her when she had bumped into her third asari watchdog in an hour. It wasn't that they didn't trust her, she expected that, but that they were so damned blatant about it!

It also didn't help that she hasn't gotten laid in the last two weeks. Girl needed her privacy for that sorta shit, and the damn blue bitches didn't leave her alone!

So, she had snapped. It had started as an insult, graduated to shoving, and before the other commandos had pulled them apart, both of them had sustained serious, though not too major injuries. Apparently the asari had needed to blow off some steam too, though, Jack smiled, she had gotten the worst of it.

She gave a sigh as she slipped out of sickbay, making a face as she adjusted her sling. Probably not the best of impressions to make on her gracious hosts. But damn, did it feel good to get into a fight again.

* * *

Joru had been idle for most of the two-day crossing to Noveria. There wasn't much she _could_ do on board the closed environment of the yacht that wouldn't give away her secret. She could open her Refuge for a nice mug of tea, Aethyta made sure there was a secure space for her to do so, but being absent from the ship for too long while in transit would be noticed. Joru had to have _somewhere_ where she could be 'herself' for a few seconds each day, otherwise her Jona disguise would revert when the time limit ran out. Aethyta had gained her access to an unmonitored room for a few minutes a couple of times each day, which was more than ample to refresh her disguise. But sleeping wasn't really an option for her. Well, trancing at any rate. As part-elf, she enjoyed the benefits of blending dream with waking awareness, but it still relaxed her hold her conscious mind had on her power, and she reverted to her natural state. On board this ship, that would raise most of Hell.

And so, she trained. For more than forty hours, she trained, in various ways. It had been good at first, but in the last few of those hours she had realized that she had attracted more attention than was wise. Benezia had several dozen commandos with her at all times, her unseen security net that spread out and made sure she was safe while being invisible. A few of the more impressive ones, who were nonetheless still quite deadly, stayed with her, while the rest of them spread out and secured a wide radius around her at all times when she wasn't on board her own private yacht, or in her home, which was more like a fortified palace.

Joru had noticed them the fourth or fifth time she had gone through her workout routine, a few curious faces that glanced her way too often. She had sighed internally when she had realized she had set the weight machines almost up to max to get a good workout, and at least one of the girls had noticed. They hadn't talked to her about it, though a few had given her odd looks. Perhaps that was just as well, she didn't want to talk about her physical differences.

Joru kept calm the best she could. Inaction had always been a problem for her, ever since her blood first began to burn. Mediation helped, it calmed her mind and let her keep her focus, and working out was a way to meditate that didn't require the incense or ritual flame that were denied her for now. As always, the memory of the old human master who had first taught her to calm her mind brought back with it the old pain of loss, but by this time, she was well used to quelling that particular melancholy.

"Gemma, look, just because I like running the treadmill pattern doesn't mean I'm skimping on the weights!"

Joru glanced up at the pair of asari over at the leg press, pausing once she finished her set at the bench. Lyris was the one who complained, while the other, an older asari who was probably her squad leader, set the weights for her while Lyris sat on the edge of the padded rest.

"Don't care, Lyris. You get an extra set today."

"Alright, fine." Lyris lay back with a huff, and started with the press. Joru suppressed a grin, her asari features twitching a little, but noting the rather impressive weight that Gemma had set for her. Not up to Joru's own standards, but, well, few people short of a krogan could bench two hundred kilograms and still call it a light workout.

"And you, missy, have had quite enough. I've been watching the logs, and you've been in here more in the last two days than any three of my girls. Enough's enough."

Joru blinked up as the asari sergeant came over to her, "I like training, and I have the Matriarch's permission to be here." She just didn't say which matriarch.

"That's all fine and dandy, but I don't want you killing yourself, hear? Up."

With a grunt and a grumble, Joru got up, giving the asari a disgusted glare, then letting out a long, slow breath. "Fine. I'll do stretches for a while, that acceptable?"

"Sure, but I want you in sickbay at noon."

"What? Why?"

The older asari gave a soft sigh, "Look, you've been in here working out, or over at the range, almost since we left orbit around Illium. That's gonna leave a mark, and I want you checked out to make sure you didn't strain something. I've seen the weights you've been using, that's not normal, and I need to make sure you aren't doing yourself damage."

Her eyes were soft, concerned as she gazed down at Jona Siberys, unaware of the true nature of the asari youngster, "You're a good kid, and I can see you've got some issues you need to work out. Pushing yourself until you break isn't the answer, so talk with the doc, huh?"

"I'll be fine on my own." Joru slipped around the woman, the sudden intense urge to put her flat on her back fading as soon as it had come, smoothed out with a ritual thought, "But in case you have forgotten, I'm not one of your girls. I don't work for you, I didn't sign up for your training, I'm not a commando you can boss around."

The asari's eyes narrowed as she turned to follow her, but Joru's finger lightly rested on her lips, before she realized that the 'young asari' was staring at her with pale-yellow eyes, "I work for the Matriarch. She trusts my judgment in this matter. So should you."

Gemma hesitated, eyes narrow and jaw set as 'Jona' slipped off, joining a few of the asari on the large, circular mat that served as the stretching area. When necessary, a rail could be erected, to turn the area into a sparring ring, but for now the asari there just gave her friendly glances as she joined their exercise routine.

Joru heaved an internal sigh as she began with some light stretches. She needed to cool off, visit the Refuge for a while, get her temper under control before she let out too much to be ignored.

* * *

The sparring ring was up, a few of the girls just finishing off a little impromptu tournament when Joru arrived back from her inspection in sickbay. She'd seen Jack slip out with a sling not too long ago, and wondered initially why she had been in there, but dismissed it. Jack was Jack, she probably picked a fight.

Joru had better ideas about how to blow off steam constructively. The doctor's examination had been brief but thorough, doing a quick scan of her body and pursing her lips so hard they turned into a thin, pale gash in her face, as she noted the numerous scars marring the skin of the 'young asari'. No doubt Joru was going to have to deal with Benezia asking questions about that later, but for now, she focused on the three asari who had just finished their little bout. "Hey."

The three turned, and gave her a set of friendly smiles. The shorter one stepped forward, offering her hand, palm up in the traditional asari gesture of greeting, "Hey yourself. I'm Vyeris, and you must be the new girl, Jona, right?"

Joru let her fingertips lightly stroke over the asari's own, returning the gesture correctly. "Yes. I was wondering if any of you might be up for a friendly spar? It's been a while, and I don't want to loose my edge."

A quiet chuckle sounded between the two taller of the asari as they shared a glance. Vyeris just smiled, "Sure, I'd be up for a friendly little bout. Those two lunks just got done beating each other up, and I've been all on my own so far."

Joru gave a faint smile, gesturing for the other asari to lead the way into the ring, "I confess I haven't had much time to read up on the rules for this sort of thing, though. Most of my fighting has been of the life-or-death variety, so if there's any rules I should know, don't hesitate to point them out."

Vyeris shrugged as she slid gracefully between the cables stretched between the posts that defined the ring, "Not many rules. No biotics, no disabling injuries, no knockout blows. We both might wind up in combat tomorrow, so anything that takes us off the combat-roster is a no-no."

Joru nodded at that, slipping through with the same ease as the other two took up station on opposite sides of the ring, "Good to know. Any conventions I need to abide by? I assume tapping out is acceptable."

"That it is." The petite asari gave a faint smirk, "I'm my squad's ground-combat specialist, so you'll probably be tapping out a lot."

Joru gave a faint smirk, "Oh I don't know, I know a thing or two about joint-locks that might surprise you."

* * *

"Noveria Traffic Control, this is the private vessel Ray of Dawn, requesting a vector to dock at Rameus Station."

The voice on the comm channel was the usual mixture of bored, harassed and a bit angry, "Ray of Dawn, your arrival is not scheduled. Our defense grid is armed and tracking you, state your business."

The asari at the comm rolled her eyes, but remained polite and professional, "Corporate business. We carry Matriarch Benezia T'soni, one of the major shareholders in a number of Noverian corporations."

The large, bulbous station wasn't visible from this distance, but it was there. The response came back from Traffic Control, "Approach...granted, Ray of Dawn. Vector Aleph-three-three is clear. You are not authorized to dock until an inspection detail has cleared your ship."

"That could take days. We are a cruiser-weight vessel, and the Matriarch is in a hurry." The comm officer's expression wasn't exactly pleased at that bit of news.

"The Matriarch has to go through quarantine procedures like everyone else." The traffic controller's tone was bored, yet gleeful, "She can wait her turn in the queue."

The Matriarch herself had stepped down to the level of the Comm officer, and now reached past her to take a spare mic. "I am Matriarch T'soni, and I'm certain that the Executive Board would be interested to know that you've decided to keep a major shareholder of Synthetic Insights, Binary Helix, three other major corporations and an assortment of minor ones from attending a scheduled meeting. I am willing to wait to deal with the formalities, but time is money, and it's not my time you'd be wasting."

The traffic controller's tone changed from one of petty glee to a more concerned tone, "I have to obey the regulations, Matriarch. You are cleared for docking bay six. A shuttle will meet you on approach for a cursory inspection before you dock. Please maintain your assigned vector."

The matriarch gave a faint smile as she set the mic back, then patted the comm officer's shoulder, "Sometimes, you need to use a bit of alsha to coax the vehniss to you, before you take it, Shal'ri."

"Yes, Matriarch." The maiden gave the older asari an adoring look as Benezia turned away. She had other problems to deal with, such as a young guest who was hiding something from her.

Benezia paced slowly, her skirts swishing about her ankles. Aethyta was over on the couch, stony-faced as Benezia had ever seen her. Each time their eyes met, Benezia gave a soft huff.

Aethyta had been emphatic: there were certain secrets that were Jona's alone, and that it was up to her to divulge, not for Aethyta to spill as if Jona were a complete child. That particular confrontation was not one that Benezia cared to repeat, Aethyta had surprised her with her vehement insistence that if Benezia wanted the answers, she had to go to Jona for them.

Thus, this meeting. Benezia had heard a few things from her commandos, and the medical report from her nurse raised more questions than it answered. The girl was strong, far stronger than she should be. Her muscles were stronger, her bones were denser, her senses seemed heightened, and she acted like someone with far more experience than she could possibly have. One of her veterans had likened her to someone who had seen far too much combat in too short a time. How a 30-year-old girl had managed to do that was anyone's guess.

Benezia turned again as the door opened, and her eyes slashed across the young asari in the doorway. She gave a nod of acknowledgment and gestured to the chair near the two couches. "Sit."

To her consternation, Jona remained in the doorway a moment before stepping forward and letting it close. The youngster's gaze was direct and calm, despite Benezia's agitation, both real and feigned. "What is this about?"

"_Sit_. We shall discuss this in a civilized manner." Benezia waited until her 'guest' was seated before seating herself on the other couch. It made Aethyta, already seated in the other couch, seem on her side, which was what she wanted for the moment.

Jona sat oddly, at first on the edge of the chair, but when Benezia slid onto her divan, the girl relaxed and sank deeper into the chair, even lifting her legs to cross them. "So now what?"

"Now, you begin explaining yourself. You have been invited into my company, my home, given of my time and energy, used my facilities, and now I find that you've been hiding something from me."

The girl went still, absolutely still. It made Benezia falter slightly, but only someone with her ear for minutia would have noticed it. Then again, this girl was said to have much-heightened senses. "I realize that it might be nothing untoward, but the point is that I cannot have a potential security breach. Someone in my position is bound to have enemies, and it's best if I know your loyalties."

The girl was silent and still. Too still, she had to be hiding something. Benezia's eyes narrowed at her guest as Jona tilted her head to stare at Aethyta. Somewhat to Benezia's surprise, Aethyta winced, and shook her head.

"I didn't tell her, Jona. She figured it out on her own."

Jona gave a faint nod and turned her head the other way. Benezia met those cold, pale-gold eyes and found herself being studied with an intensity that rivaled her own. "Before I tell you anything, Benezia, I must ask this question. Please do not take it personally, nor as an insult, there are security concerns that prevent me from revealing my secrets unless you answer this question correctly."

Benezia felt her jaw clench, and consciously loosened it. This girl thought to bring _her_ to task for breach of security? "Very well, ask."

"Have you ever spent any time at all in the presence of the Spectre Saren Arterius, or any time at all on his flagship, or been near any other similar technology?" The girl's eyes were deathly serious, "Answer to the best of your knowledge and in your own way. Until I have your answer, I cannot, not 'will not' but _cannot_ reveal this information."

"Are you accusing-" Benezia bit off that sentence before it could do more damage. The girl had to be an agent of some sort, but for whom? Who wanted Saren watched? The council, now, and probably some of the Circle of Matriarchs, but this girl had been contacted by Aethyta days prior to that. Who might have had information about Saren prior to the official investigation?

"Before I answer, might I ask a different question?" At the girl's curt nod, she continued, "Whom do you serve? You're clearly an agent for someone, or you wouldn't be interested in my connection to Saren, and you wouldn't care about that if you didn't have covert intelligence on him."

"Correct, as far as it goes." The girl's lips quirk faintly, "As to my own loyalties, let's just say I serve a Higher Power in this."

Benezia heard the capitals click into place. 'Spectre, has to be. But who? Vasir? Possibly, she's always been a bit unorthodox. Possibly that salarian one, I forget his name. Possibly the council directly, but they would never induct someone so young as a Spectre.' She gave a soft sigh, "Very well. I have not, to the best of my memory, ever been in Saren's presence, nor been aboard his flagship. I cannot speak for other similar technology, as it might have been disguised."

The girl's reaction was interesting to read. She seemed to soften from her stillness, giving a thoughtful nod. "I understand. And now I have something of a dilemma. In all courtesy, I cannot keep this information from you, as you would be a valuable ally I should not turn away unnecessarily. On the other hand, the secret is too sensitive to release to the general public, so I must request that you give me your word that what I reveal here does not go beyond these walls. Moreover, I must ask that you seal the room and deactivate any monitoring equipment that might be watching or listening. This information is too sensitive to be allowed to pass beyond us three for now."

The older matriarch pursed her lips and shot Aethyta a glance. Her old lover had been remarkably tight-lipped about all this, but that was at least somewhat forgivable if there was a Spectre involved.

"I see. Well, give me a moment." Benezia flicked open her omnitool's interface. Long habit and practice meant that she could quickly riffle through the needed gestures to bring up a call to her security chief without need of the holographic interface, something she had practiced so often that it was almost muscle-memory by now.

"Matriarch?" The soft voice in her ear sounded politely attentive. As Shiuura always was.

"Until further notice, seal and disable all recording devices and monitoring equipment to my third receiving room, please. I shall contact you again when it is permitted to resume monitoring. Inform me when it is done."

"At once, Matriarch." No hesitation, no questions. A good woman, if possibly a bit slow. "Monitoring systems disabled and the room is sealed, Matriarch."

"Good." Benezia closed the connection and turned to face her young enigma, "We are secure. No monitoring or recording."

The girl gave a soft sigh, rising with a surprisingly weary expression, "Very well. Remember that you yourself demanded this information, so no matter what, your involvement was your decision."

Benezia opened her mouth to demand an explanation for _that_, but her jaw merely sagged a moment before snapping shut. Young Jona grew, gaining nearly half a meter in height as her already dark skin darkened and seemed to thicken. Two of her scalp tendrils lifted and lengthened, growing shiny and hard, while the rest split into countless fine filaments which quickly spread down past the woman's shoulders. And Jona was no child anymore, towering over Benezia, her features lean and almost hungry. A long, sinuous tail appeared from behind one of her legs, tipped with a wicked-looking sharp spike. Her eyes changed as well, flame-red filling them until only the pupils were still yellow, now a vibrant molten-gold.

The shock of the transformation made Benezia lean backwards unconsciously, almost huddling into her couch. She'd seen many holographic disguises before, but never something as total and complex as this one. It was as if the woman's very flesh had changed shape. She found Aethyta's hand taking her own and it was only then that she realized her hands were trembling.

The figure moved, her pace long and slow, but quickly shifting the distance to one of the sparsely-adorned walls. She turned there, not exactly at bay, but as nonthreatening as her almost brutish appearance would allow. She spoke then, her eyes firm, but not menacing, and her voice similar to Jona's, though deeper and more resonant. "I am Jorukaia, a darastrix. I am sent on a mission most urgent, one that I dare not speak aloud in this place. Come, let us adjourn to a place where none may eavesdrop, even accidentally."

Was there a door on that wall? No, Benezia knew this ship quite well, especially her reception areas. There was no door in that wall, behind it was a smaller, more intimate reception room, and yet, this door did not open into that space, but into somewhere else entirely.

Benezia's unbelieving eyes beheld a sky at evening, facing the rising of a moon over a mountain-rimmed valley. Some sort of free-standing torches provided illumination over a surprisingly peaceful stone-lined sand garden, a pair of small, almost sculpted trees just visible on either side, flanking the entrance to what looked like some sort of mountain aerie.

She turned, clasping Aethyta's hand tightly, her voice low and urgent, "What is this?"

"This is my Refuge. I grant you safe passage within, Matriarch Benezia T'soni. May you find peace and shelter here, for as long as you live." The words were intoned in an almost ritualistic manner as the tall, dark woman turned to face her at the entrance.

"It's alright, Nezzie, I've been inside myself." Aethyta gently coaxed the older woman to her feet as Jona, no, Jorukaia, stepped through the impossible doorway and into that other...place.

"I..think I am getting too old for these sorts of shocks, Aethyta." Benezia did not wobble, though her voice was faint. She swallowed and took a breath as she stepped forward, examining the door as she got close.

It seemed utterly unremarkable, a simple, plain door just like the thousands of others on her ship. If she didn't know without a shadow of doubt that it was not supposed to be there, then if it was closed, it would pass without remark. Open, the sight of what was clearly a planetary surface, accessible by stepping through a doorway on board a starship currently orbiting a planet itself, was utterly incomprehensible. She paused, examining the door, seeing where the stone floor of that other place met with, but did not merge, with the metal deck of her own starship.

"Just... what is this? Some sort of...I don't know, teleportation portal?"

The tall, scaled alien gave a faint smile, "Similar, but not exactly. It is an extradimensional space, its opening currently mapped to this location in real-space. It exists not within the three dimensions of reality as you know them, but within three of the other seven dimensions of this universe, normally not accessible. The portal maps matter and energy crossing through it to the other spacial coordinate system as it crosses through. Light you see here is actually being generated in what is essentially another dimension."

Jorukaia lifted a hand to beckon Benezia within, "Please, if you would, I would have you stay a while, and we can have the discussion I know you wish to have. I will provide tea, if you wish. Aethyta seemed to enjoy it."

Benezia gave a faint nod, stepping to the edge of the doorway, but hesitating there. Aethyta had no such hesitations, and stepped promptly through, despite Benezia trying to grasp her and hold her back. "See, Nezzie? Perfectly safe. I told you, I've been through here before."

"It's untested and unproven technology, Aethyta!"

"It's been in use, in one form or another, for more than ten millenia. I think that constitutes 'tested and proven', myself." Jorukaia's tone was faintly amused, but she bowed her head in conciliation. She turned to Aethyta, "I will go retrieve the tea. Once the portal is closed, we can have our conversation."

"Alright. Don't take too long, though."

The tall, horned woman nodded, turning and walking with a sure, confident stride to where Benezia could see the aerie ended in cliff, beside the small platform that jutted out over the edge. To her shock, Joru stepped off without a second glance, vanishing out of sight. "Is.. there some sort of platform beneath the cliff?"

Aethyta laughed, and gently drew the older asari across the line of the portal. Benezia expected to feel some sort of shock, tingle or at least a frisson of disquiet, but it was as unremarkable a step as any of the millions she had taken in her life. "Nah, she just likes doing that to show off. She'll be back in a few minutes with tea."

"N-no? There isn't a platform?" The aerie wasn't as barren and sterile as it had seemed from the far side of the portal. The two solid, rock walls weren't carved, being naturally craggy, but the floor of the canyon was smoothed stone, with a few beds of fine sand, sculpted into intricate designs with a few strategically placed rocks. Benezia had seen some of these before, and had even set up a small 'zen rock garden' in one of her apartments on Thessia, using Kavo Reach beach sand, for its lustrous glitter. The two trees that stood in front of the portal were mirrored by a pair in the back as well, and the back wall of the canyon was roughly hewn into flatness, with a simple wooden door set into it. A slender walkway extended from the portal, between the two carefully tended sand gardens to either side, out to a small platform that extended off the side of the cliff, and the rock walls of the canyon had small, stone benches along them.

The younger asari smirked slightly, gently drawing Benezia down on one of the benches, stepping away from the portal. From this side, it was a free-standing arch a good three meters tall and wide, made of some sort of gleaming, black stone, on which glowing sigils flickered, "Yup. Among her many talents, Joru can fly. I'll give you the news story later."

"Alright. Just who _is_ she, Aethyta. _What_ is she, and why have you dragged me along into...whatever this is?"

The younger asari winced slightly, taking a seat beside Benezia. "She actually approached me. I found her on Therum, where she was looking for Liara."

Benezia's back stiffened, "She knows what happened to Liara?"

"No, no, calm down, Nezzie." Aethyta waited and patted her former lover's hands gently, "No, she was looking for Liara there because that was her last known location. She has something she needs to talk to Liara about, and it just so happened that she went looking for her just when Liara got kidnapped. She's already pledged herself to help find her, don't worry about that."

* * *

Returning to the pair of asari, Joru carefully set the tray on one of the nearby stone benches. It was a simple thing, wood, trimmed with steel, but elegant in its simplicity. She had taken the better of the two teapots and the set of fine china, which she only used when she had guests. The teapot was full of water and a bit of loose tea was tucked into a small box.

She was aware of Benezia's eyes on her, but ignored the wide, astonished gaze with the ease of long practice. The two large, spectral wings of black, roiling shadow puffed away as she released the mental construct holding them intact, her bare feet touching down without a stumble and claws clicking on the smoothed stone. "The water will take a moment to boil, Matriarch."

"I...yes, I suppose."

"I know you have questions. In a moment I will answer them, to the best of my ability and your comprehension. A lot of what I will tell you will make no sense in your logical framework, so you will have to trust me that what I speak is the truth." The portal was still active, and Joru picked up the teapot as she moved over to it. A focused burst of will set her palm ablaze, beneath the teapot, a tight, furious heat that would quickly brought the water to a boil as her other hand quickly traced a series of sigils that did not move over the portal's surface. The rest of the glowing symbols faded, vanishing back into the black stone arch, and the vision of Benezia's reception room visible through the portal shimmered and vanished.

"H-Have you trapped us here?" Benezia's tone only shook a little, something which drew a faint smile from Joru.

"No. Merely touch the portal anywhere, and it will open again. You have permission to come and go as you will, the portal knows this and will open for you." The teapot expressed its indignation as Joru returned to the group at the bench, tucking a small amount of tea into each of the three cups she had bought. "Now, how do you prefer your tea, Matriarch? Plain, with sugar or milk?"

"Plain, please." The asari blinked at the teapot as Joru carefully poured, "How did-"

"I focused a bit of power and heated the water myself. More efficient than a fire, and it doesn't produce smoke." She handed a pair of teacups to her two guests before she took one of her own, "Now, you have questions for me."

Benezia seemed to be at a loss for words, so Aethyta spoke first, "How about you tell us a bit about why you're here."

Joru's lips quirked slightly, she liked Aethyta's directness. "Very well. Roughly thirteen years ago, I was on Earth, but not the Earth of this universe. I was attempting to return to my home universe from that other one, they were linked but I did not know how or what path to take. I...brute-forced a solution. Any encryption scheme can be broken if you have enough processing power to break it, the same is true of the laws of physics. We built a bridge to nowhere, into the astral space of that world, but something happened. Perhaps a miscalculation, possibly enemy activity, I don't know. I wasn't in a position where I got a good look, not until it was far too late."

"A-Astral space? Bridge to nowhere?" Benezia looked confused and gave a stern glance to Aethyta.

"The accepted, standard model of the universe has 11 dimensions. Three of which we know intimately, and a fourth that we have some experience with. The three dimensions of space, and one of time. The other seven dimensions are normally inaccessible, but they exist all the same. At least one of them is the 'emotional' dimension, and contains mystic residues of the mental processes of sapient beings that correspond to the three dimensions of space. Locations can become saturated with those traces, and mana flows through that dimension."

Benezia's eyes were angry now, "What sort of nonsense is this? More 'magic'?"

"Put bluntly, yes." Joru lifted her free hand, letting a spark of power flare and wrap her forearm with flames that rapidly spiraled up to pool in her cupped hand. Benezia's jaw clicked shut and she blinked widening eyes at the display.

"Magic is no more and no less than the application of raw willpower to the energies of higher-order dimensions. I siphon a minute spark of energy from those seven tightly-bound dimensions and allow it to express itself in our universe in whatever format I can imagine. To use an analogy with something you're more familiar with, it is comparable to how a biotic can use her own body's energy to energize the eezo nodules through her nervous system, producing a directed dark energy field that when it collapses, generates the desired gravitic effect."

After a moment to ponder that, Benezia nodded, "I...see how you could make that assumption, but it's far more complex than that. The nervous system must be properly attuned and triggered in precise sequence to produce each effect, it takes a great deal of concentration and knowledge."

"As does magic. Perhaps to a greater degree even than biotics, since we are not limited by the body's own energy. Mages, wizards, sorcerers, warlocks, we all touch other dimensions and use their inherent energies to our own ends. One wrong syllable, one missed gesture, one errant thought, and the energies you summon become uncontrolled. The best thing that happens in that circumstance is that they dissipate harmlessly. The worst.. there are places on my homeworld blasted clean of life, sterilized down to the molecules that make it up, and are still actively inimical to all forms of living things tens of thousands of years after the event that blighted them."

Aethyta gave a shiver, "That's... interesting and all, but not why we're here."

"Y-Yes... Why are you here, and what connection do you have to my daughter?" Benezia too a breath and nodded, calming herself.

Joru gave a faint smile, "My connection to your daughter is somewhat of a nebulous one. I know that she is important, vastly more so than you or Aethyta. Her actions influence the galaxy to an unprecedented degree. Her fate was disturbed, however, she was _not_ supposed to be captured by Saren."

"S-Saren... Yes, he's working with the geth, and the geth kidnapped her, I could see the connection, but why? Why would he want my daughter?"

"I can't explain everything, the information I have is fragmented and unclear." Joru shifted and sat, her tail draping over the bench and idly carving new furrows in the sand. "Let's return to how I got here. I was...cast out of the universe I was in, similar to how something in a pressurized airlock is violently ejected when the outer door is opened. I found myself in a place where time and dimension had no meaning, or perhaps they had all meanings, including the contradictory ones. In any event it does not matter."

Benezia's face was pale, and Aethyta took her trembling hand as Joru continued. "There, I...felt something. I can't really describe it, it both took no time at all and it took an eternity. There was, for lack of a better term, time for whatever existed in that not-existence to express its surprise and consternation at my arrival."

She shifted and sighed, one hand stroking the wrist of the other, taking another sip of tea and warming the cooling dregs with a pulse of magic. "I don't know if the memory was repressed, or if I simply did not have time to make memories in that timeless place. What I do know is that I was given a choice. To cease, to be unmade, or to take the place of a woman with an unfulfilled destiny."

"You've spoken of that before, destiny and fate. Surely you believe that we shape our own lives?"

"Of course we do, don't be naive." Joru paused and sighed, "My apologies. Talking about this always brings up some uncomfortable truths, and I can get snappish, I did not mean to be rude."

Benezia had drawn herself up, but she gave a mollified nod, "Continue."

"Destiny, or fate if you prefer, is both mutable and immutable. Everyone's fate is set, we all die sometime, but the manner in which we shape our course until that moment is not set. Constrained, perhaps, but not written in stone. Everyone has the choice to make their own little decisions, but society as a whole is far less free. And that's before one considers the actions of those outside society. To make a very long story short, I was given a view of history from outside time."

Joru gave a faint smile, her eyes cloudy with reminiscence, "It was at once both more beautiful than I can possibly describe, and far more terrifying than anything I had ever seen. A tapestry, woven of threads of light, is the best that I can do to describe it. Each thread represented a lifespan, from the moment of its beginning to the moment of its end. I saw all life in the universe in a timeless instant, and it took my breath away."

She gave a soft snort, "Or it would have, had I a body at that time. But in any event, I was shown two potential futures. The first, a woman's actions, chivalrous and noble, touched the galaxy and changed the course of history itself. A threat from beyond was neutralized, but not without horrific cost. In the end, though it was lessened, the galaxy survived."

Her smile turned to a frown as she continued, "In the other, that woman died young. With no one to touch them, the threads remained unbent, their course unchanging. And in the end, they were all cut short, their lives ended as if a great shear had come down and severed the whole of the tapestry, leaving only remnant threads behind that quickly failed. All that was left were what I took to be isolated populations on undiscovered worlds, or possibly primitive races that had not yet discovered the Relays."

Benezia clutched Aethyta's hands in both of hers, a coldness touching her heart, "A-and Liara was important to this?"

"Yes," Joru nodded, "She was not the focus point, the woman who's life was cut short prematurely, but she was close to the focus, possibly even touching this woman's life intimately."

She turned, flame-red eyes gazing into Benezia's pale-blue ones. "Your daughter was...is... _will be_ instrumental in saving the galaxy, Benezia. But she did not do it alone. The woman I mentioned was a girl on Mindoir, a human. She went by the name of Jordan Shepard, and she had just had the worst day of her life."

Joru sighed softly, "In the prime timeline, Jordan's entire extended family was massacred, her parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins, everyone she had ever known closely was murdered by a batarian slave-raid." Joru's voice turned harsh on that last phrase, and she looked away, sipping her tea to get herself under control again. 'These are not your memories, Joru, remember that.'

But they felt so very real. "In the prime timeline, she spent that night crying inconsolably as she buried her dead and burned the farm to the ground. She was found by an alliance patrol and later signed up. She had a distinguished career, became a special forces officer, and eventually, humanity's first SPECTRE."

Benezia blinked in surprise, but Joru overrode her interjection, "I don't know the woman's entire story, I had no time to see everything, only the highlights. Something she did, a series of events she was drawn into, led to the forestalling of the ending of all life, and eventually the destruction of the threat that was hanging over everything like a galaxy-wide Sword of Damocles. Shepard herself did not live to see the threat ended, but those she inspired, including your daughter, stepped up and did what had to be done."

There was a pause, before Aethyta prompted, "And in the other timeline?"

Joru gave a sigh, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and peering into the dregs at the bottom of her teacup. "In the other timeline, Jordan Shepard finished burying her dead, put a gun to her head, and joined them."

Benezia's convulsive shudder was steadied as Aethyta gently hugged the older woman, "Goddess... I...could see how that would change things."

"It was not a natural change or split in the timeline." Joru straightened and glanced meaningfully at Benezia, "Someone or something altered history. Possibly the threat, knowing itself for doomed, sent some sort of message to itself in the past. They have a very long reach, but it must be subtle until they can mass their forces, and it takes a great deal to rouse them from slumber. I think... I don't know this for certain, but I believe that they _forced_ Shepard to commit suicide, to end the threat she posed to their plans before she could affect them."

"I...could see that logic, yes."

Joru's lips quirked, "That which exists outside the multiverse does not like it when someone tampers with history. I was in the right place at the right time, or perhaps my ejection from reality was engineered. I don't know, but I do know that I was given this gift of knowledge and a mandate to finish what Jordan Shepard began, to complete her destiny. To that end, I must find your daughter, find the threat that I _know_ beyond all shadows of doubt to be coming, to stop it, and eliminate it."

"Just what is this threat?"

Joru set her teacup down, fiddling with her omnitool. It wasn't exactly like the AR gloves she had lost, but at least she still had her commlink itself. Omnitools were good, but they were still electronic, and didn't hold a candle to a fully optronic processor when it came to sheer processing speed. She brought up a hologram, part of the surveillance feed from Eden Prime, and searched through it until she found the shot she wanted.

Benezia peered at the image, then blinked up at Joru, "Is...that to scale? It must be the size of a dreadnought..."

Joru gave a faint nod, gazing at the image of her enemy, suspended between them, "You can not even begin to fight your enemy if you do not even know who he is. All the preparation for war in the galaxy will be meaningless if you don't know at least the bare bones of your enemy, especially one as alien and anathema as these. There is no surrender, no negotiation, no minimizing civilian casualties. The enemy is outside looking in, hating all that it sees and will settle for nothing less than the complete destruction of all civilization, down to the man, woman and child. Machines given thought with a malevolence that wishes to destroy. Asari or Vorcha, organic or machine, if it lives, it dies, and the Reapers are coming to harvest. Patience born from harvesting countless civilizations, no stone left unturned, no trick left unplayed, they will infiltrate society at all levels, turn politicians to their puppets, and our dead into their shock troops."

Benezia's horrified expression said it all, and even Aethyta looked queasy at that last, "How... what kind of beings _are_ they?"

"This is one of them. I call them Reapers, because that is what they do. They reap the harvest, and _we_ are their crops. Life is chaotic in all it's forms, and chaos is an aberration to them, a disease to be cured, an infection to be contained and eradicated. We do not negotiate with a plague, nor will _they_ show _us_ the least trace of mercy."

She gave a soft, mirthless snort, gazing at the image of Sovereign, hovering above Eden Prime in defiance of all natural laws, "'Our numbers will darken the skies of every world...' Be that as it may, they are physical, and thus mortal, no matter what they believe of themselves. All things physical will end one day, be it now, or when the particles that make up their matter begin to evaporate. Nothing escapes death, and this time, Death comes for the Reapers."

She switched off the hologram and sank to one knee before the startled asari. She gently took Benezia's hands in her own, the strong, clawed tips of her fingers covering the asari's own, "If it is within my power to return your daughter to you safe and sound, no matter the cost to me, I would do so. All I ask in return is that you keep my secret. I would brave the fires of Hell itself, would it return Liara to you." Her faint smile returned, "It would not be the first time."

* * *

It had been two days, the red tape was multiplying. There was a paperwork orgy going on somewhere, and the resultant progeny were being arrayed in defensive positions to obstruct and block her path. Benezia gave a disgusted sigh and pushed herself away from the terminal. This last one was going to be trouble. First, they had been solicitous and overly cautious, then they had been obsequious and simpering, and now they were getting stern.

They'd found out that Binary Helix hadn't called a shareholder's meeting like she had intimated and now they were threatening to give her the runaround for the next three weeks, until the next scheduled shareholder's meeting. She couldn't afford to wait that long, Saren, and any information he might have on her daughter's whereabouts, might already be leaving the system, and she had to find him, no matter what!

She startled a little as the petite figure of Jona Siberys shimmered into existence. "Merciful Goddess, don't do that!"

"My apologies, Matriarch." Jona's tone and manner were perfectly deferential, but something about her bearing held just a hint of smugness. Blasted girl enjoyed startling people.

Benezia shivered a little. "Have the courtesy to use the door like everyone else, and do stay visible, please?"

During the long hours of discussion in the Refuge, Joru had run down a list of various powers she held, everything from cloaking herself from sight to teleportation that could cover the length of Benezia's cruiser-weight ship with ease. In the spirit of experimentation, she had allowed Joru to teleport her across the courtyard of that space she called her Refuge. It was not an experience she craved to repeat, though the nausea had passed within a few seconds. It had.. She honestly still didn't know what it had felt like, she simply had no other frames of reference. Stepping across the threshold into the Refuge hadn't felt like anything at all, just stepping through any other doorway. Joru's teleportation had been much less smooth.

"Any luck?"

"Sadly, no. They're being obstructionist in the best bureaucratic way." Benezia suppressed her frustrated sigh, turning it into a slow, calming exhalation

The false asari gave a quiet snort as she paced, "Red tape tangling everything up?" At Benezia's resigned nod, Joru murmured, "I am reminded of the Gordian Knot from human mythology."

"Mmm?" Benezia could listen to Joru talk for hours, the woman had such fantastic stories, though she couldn't quite wrap her head around the idea that many of them were things that the tall, dark, tailed alien had actually done.

"It's a long tale and the beginnings of it doesn't really matter. Suffice it to say, there was a massive knot of great intricacy and convolution, and a prophecy stated that he who untangled the knot would become the next king. A man arrived, at the head of his army, and found himself confronted with the knot. Told that he would never be acknowledged king until he had unwoven the knot, no matter how great his army, he set about the task in his own tent."

The young asari girl shifted, starting to pace, "He spent days, trying to find an end, from which he could begin unraveling the knot. He could find no end, and in his frustration and impatience, he struck the knot with his sword, cleaving it in two."

Benezia blinked, but Joru continued, "He presented the unraveled halves of the knot to the high priest, and since none alive had seen the knot woven, none would know of the means with which the man unraveled it." Her smile was cunning as she turned, folding her arms across her chest, "Like Alexander, who went on to conquer most of that part of the world, I too posses a sword that can solve such problems."

"I... What do you mean?" Benezia frowned at her guest.

"Simple. A shuttle isn't the only way down to the surface. I can take myself, and four others with me to anywhere I have a clear picture of."

The matriarch frowned, "I thought your teleportation was limited to.. what did you say, just under a kilometer?"

Jona nodded, giving an impish smile, "True, the teleportation I manage myself. I have an artifact, however, that while it has a day-long cooldown, has _no_ range limit. If you can obtain a recent image of the door to the facility you believe Saren has gone, I can get us there. Once we're there though, we're stuck there until the device has recharged, so I would recommend sending along supplies for a night in the open. I would also suggest a group composed of myself, Aethyta, Jack, and two others. While I would enjoy your company, and your presence might be invaluable, I believe you would better serve remaining here, to distract the Noverian authorities while our little commando raid goes forth. I would recommend you send your most trustworthy and loyal commandos, however. Between the five of us, I doubt that we would have any trouble finding Saren, and extracting the location of your daughter from him."

Benezia was breathless for a moment before she got slowly to her feet. She gazed intently into Jona's eyes, but saw nothing but frank honesty in those pale-yellow eyes. "...How does this thing work?"

"I don't know the exact mechanism, but teleportation is fairly straightforward. Reassign one's position in the universe from your current location to a location of your choosing. In this case, I can both specify a direction and distance, or use an image to provide the location. It has to be recent, mind. Any significant changes to the location and the image would no longer be viable, or even dangerous to use as a target."

Benezia thought for a long moment. On the one hand, if she went by standard channels, it could take weeks to get to where Saren was, and he would either get word of her arrival, if he hasn't yet, or would be long gone. On the other, this would limit the amount of people she could bring with her to a literal handful, and while it would be an avenue unlooked-for, it would be risky.

"...I'll see what I can find."

* * *

Joru knew when the portal activated. She was seated in the lotus position, but balanced on the column of her tail. It was meditation for mind and body, building both confidence in her own balance, strength in her extra appendage, and calming her mind at the same time. The meditation platform, hanging suspended over the cliff edge, was an excellent vantage, and a perfect place to greet the dawn, even if dawn here was several hours off.

"Joru?" Aethyta's voice, soft and curious.

"I am aware. Is it time?"

The matriarch gave a soft sigh, "Yes. Benezia's briefing the commandos now."

"Very well." She shifted, getting to her feet and turning to her guest. Meditation calmed her almost as much as trancing, and the two flowed naturally from one to the other. She was fully rested now, her mind calm, her beast soothed. "I shall return momentarily."

"A-alright... Look, Joru, in case I haven't said it enough, thank you for helping us."

Aethyta would have gone on, but she stopped the asari with an upraised hand, "It is my quest and duty to see this through to the end. Your endeavors intertwine with mine, to refuse to help you would cause my own task to be more difficult. That is not to say that I would not help you, even if your daughter's life was of no consequence to me. I know I'm not very good at saying it, but... I _enjoy_ helping people in need. It is something I do not get to do very often, and the novelty intrigues me."

She quirked her lips, "But before this devolves into a maundering tale of an outcast, let us return. Do they know yet?"

The asari shook her head, "No. Benezia keeps your secrets, as do I."

"Very well. Go on, I will join you shortly." Joru turned as Aethyta returned to the portal and stepped through. The image through the obsidian-black arch shimmered and vanished as the door closed on the far side, but the portal remained active, signaling that the door was still visible.

The dragoness heaved a deep sigh, gathering her resolve. She could do this. She _would_ do this. It was her duty and quest. She would not fail.

The only question in her mind was how many would survive.

* * *

The door opened and Benezia nodded to the young asari who stepped through, "Lyris, I think you know Jona. Elnaris, this is Jona Siberys, she's...a specialist, with certain esoteric abilities. She has my full confidence and trust, treat her voice as mine."

The youngster nodded to the two commandos, and Lyris pondered her a moment. She'd seen Jona several times during the two or three days of the trip and the subsequent stonewalling they got from Noveria Control. Fit, calm, focused. She handled herself like a battle-matron, but at such a young age that a kid would only just be moving out of her parents' house. And then there was the gossip floating around the ship, that Jona was some sort of super-biotic, or maybe some escaped convict from the Terminus Systems whom their Matriarch was reforming. Lyris didn't know, but it appeared she was going to find out.

Elnaris nodded formally as she brushed fingertips with the youngster. The older commando was a bit stiff, but was matched by equally formal phrases of greeting from the youngster.

"Jona will transport you two, Matriarch Aethyta, and our human friend down to the surface." Benezia was cut off by a brash voice off to the side.

"And just how is she going to do that, Matriarch?" Jack's dark-blue eyes glittered faintly, giving a scowl at the youngster, "She might be a good pilot, but Noveria Traffic Control would just shoot us out of the sky, then probably open fire on your ship."

"There are other ways of traversing distance than with one's own feet, Jack." The young, but firm voice cut across the human's sarcastic tone with a flat, almost toneless rebuke. Jack's eyes narrowed in response, but before she could reply, Jona turned to Benezia, "Is the room secure?"

"Of course."

"Very well." The youngster turned to the rest of them, Jack in particular. "You know me as Jona Siberys, but that is not truly my name. I am Jorukaia. Some of you might have heard of me. I am not asari, I am a darastrix. My people have many powers, among them is the art of changing one's shape."

"Just what the shit is this?" Jack was almost snarling, but cut off as the petite, young asari suddenly darkened, swelling and shifting shape. Lyris' breath caught in her throat and even the veteran Elnaris took a half step back as the figure towered over them, eyes gone flame-red and her entire aspect becoming that of a lean and deadly predator.

"I am a darastrix. In some languages, our race-name translates as Dragon. I trust that you at least would know of us, Jack." The girl's tone had shifted, becoming deeper, but still recognizable. Lyris found herself trembling faintly, and tried to still her nerves. Now was _not_ the time to panic.

"I trust the Matriarch has briefed you on the duration of our trip?"

Jorukaia glanced at each of them in turn, and Aethyta nodded, "We'll be stuck down there for a full day, until your personal transport device can recharge itself."

Jack's face was sour, "What kind of technical mumbo-jumbo was that shit?"

"The truth, or near enough. The means I use to transport great distances has a rather lengthy recharge period. I hope you brought some cold-weather gear, as well as some rations. We'll be down there for a day at least, assuming we don't wind up on the wrong side of the mountain and have to trek across it."

"It's that inaccurate?" Benezia sounded almost nervous.

"Far from it, but it does have a tendency of going where I tell it to go, not necessarily where I _wish_ to go." The tall, firmly-muscled woman stretched out her hands, and Lyris noticed that a long tail swayed behind her, "Take my hands, or touch me where you would. We can leave when you're ready."

Aethyta took her hand immediately, and the two shared a glance. After a moment, Jack stepped up and slapped her hand on Joru's bare shoulder. She blinked, "Damn, but you've got some muscles under there."

"My hide is scaled and armored, and yes, as a darastrix, my muscles are more dense than most races." She glanced over at the two commandos, and after a moment Elnaris stepped up and grasped her hand.

Lyris was conflicted. On the one hand, Jack and Aethyta obviously trusted her. Elnaris was good enough to be able to take care of herself in a fight regardless of the skill of her companions, but Lyris had been drilled with other commandos for most of her career. She didn't know Joru, didn't know how she'd react in a fight. This was going to be a sink-or-swim test for her. She would either adapt, or fail. And in combat, the consequences of failure were usually quick, and brutal.

She swallowed gently and reached out, gently placing a hand on the shoulder of the scaled woman. She had to reach upward to do so, but the darastrix gave her an almost kind look.

"Very well. We go. Brace yourselves, the transition can be... disorienting."

Benezia gave Aethyta a long, hard look, conveying something between the two matriarchs, but what it was, Lyris couldn't make out. She took a breath, to ask what it would be like, but she was gone before she finished drawing air.

* * *

AN: Thank you so much for putting up with the lengthy delays between postings. As a consolation, have a longer-than-usual chapter! Next chapter will probably be an interlude, but the next main chapter should be up soon after that.

As always, my thanks to Vipermagi for helping me with this. Without (his? her?) assistance, I wouldn't've gotten this out as fast as I did, nor would I have as much direction for how this fic is going to go. Thank you all for reading and please leave me a review if you have anything at all you want to discuss!


	10. Interlude: Reflections on the Water

**Ripples in the Stream**

A D&amp;D / Shadowrun / Mass Effect crossover  
by Vyrexuviel

Disclaimer: The author of this story does not, in any way, derive any profit from the story. D&amp;D, Shadowrun and Mass Effect are the property of their respective copyright holders. Jorukaia and other unfamiliar characters in this story, however, are mine.

* * *

"This is all beside the point." Sparatus leaned inward, his elbows on the table. Tevos shot him a look, but he ignored it. "Why did you remand her to C-Sec prison when you had your own ships in dock to transfer her to?"

"We needed to make special preparations for her. She was obviously extremely strong, and we had no ships with strong enough brigs in-dock at the moment to transfer her too. I _assumed_ that C-Sec Supermax would be able to contain her for the necessary few days until we could get a properly fitted ship here to pick her up." Ambassador Udina's voice was both contrite and demanding at the same time, something he had honed over long practice.

"Be that as it may, you remanded her to our custody without properly stating her crimes. So far, we have heard no justification for incarcerating this individual in such harsh conditions." Valern's voice was soft, but clipped, in the usual salarian fashion.

"Do we have to explain our internal affairs to you, then?" Udina gritted.

"No, you do not. However, when you use our facilities, we expect to be informed as to the reasons why they are necessary. You informed us that she was...'being held for questioning about being found in a restricted, military area without proper authorization'. That hardly seems like it would require a stay in SuperMax."

"At the time, she was found in a highly restricted security zone and we didn't have facilities to hold her. What would -you- have done under those circumstances?"

"I, for one, would have attempted to ascertain her method of infiltration, her purpose, and any other available data." Valern blinked as if such a course of action were obvious.

"We did," Anderson hated having to back Udina up. The man was slimy, but he was the Ambassador. "We interrogated her three times. She gave us three different answers. We obviously weren't going to get a straight answer out of her with the available tools, so we had to take her somewhere we could properly convince her to speak. Unfortunately, my ship isn't fitted for prisoner transport, and the prisoner in question put claw-marks in hardened steel."

"I read that report." Tevos's voice was cool, but not cold, "It seems highly unusual that someone with that level of physical capability would willingly cooperate to the extent that you reported that she did."

Udina growled, "I am not responsible for the actions of some unknown agent!"

"We didn't say you were," Sparatus commented. "We just mentioned it to bring up the point that if she _was_ an agent, she was being remarkably biddable. She made no threatening movements, made no attempt to escape at all until _after_ being incarcerated in our holding cells for more than a day. What is interesting is that you felt the need to incarcerate her with us at all, given that she seemed perfectly content to be contained in the rudimentary facilities you had available".

"So, I'm to be held accountable for her insanity then?"

"Ambassador." At Anderson's tone, Donnel Udina gave him a furious glance, but after a pause, a curt nod as well. At his superior's permission, the Captain continued, "We had no idea who or even what she was. She claimed to be the reincarnation of one of my dead crew-members, a demon from Hell, and a being from another universe. She was obviously delusional, or at the very least making no sense to us. To protect my crew from someone who's motives and mind were so different from our own, who's physical capabilities were far beyond those of a normal human, I had to do _something_. I consulted with the Ambassador on it, and it was his suggestion to have her placed with C-Sec."

Udina's furious look did not go unnoticed, either by Anderson, or by the Councilors, but it was Sparatus's polite cough and nod for Anderson to continue which stilled the Ambassador's acid tongue.

"At the Ambassador's suggestion, I transferred her to C-Sec SuperMax, where it was thought she would be safely contained until the SSV Kilimanjaro could take her back to the Sol system for further interrogation. Obviously, things did not go as planned. I do not know why she chose to wait that long before escaping, nor do I know why she went after her personal effects. I _do_ know that the things she retrieved from that box were not things we put into it, nor am I aware of where they came from."

Sparatus's eyes narrowed, and Udina stepped forward, his voice once again smug, "It sounds to me like this may have been an inside job, Councilors. Someone wanted my prisoner free, and placed equipment where she could reach it. They probably facilitated her escape as well. I would _suggest_," and he let contempt color the word, "that you begin by interrogating that asari clerk who directed her to the proper storage container in C-Sec Inventory. Someone had to have gotten those items into storage somehow, and I would like to find out how."

"This is a matter for C-Sec Internal Affairs, not for you to intrude into. Granted, it was your prisoner that escaped, but it is a matter for C-Sec to sort out now. A prisoner, however she came to be there, escaped from their custody, they will want to find her and bring her back." Tevos's voice cooled perceptibly, "However, they would also like to know if the prisoner was in custody via legal means. Unlawful imprisonment is in fact a crime, gentlemen. If they discover evidence that this...Jorukaia was in fact imprisoned unlawfully, they _will_ have questions for the pair of you."

There was a hush at that, and at a swift glance from Tevos, both of the other Councilors rose with her. As protocol dictated, Ambassador Udina and Captain Anderson got to their feet as well.

"We shall speak again on this matter, Ambassador. Captain." Tevos gave them each a slight bow, then turned and gracefully exited the room.

Valern followed her, but Sparatus lingered a moment. "I'm not as much concerned with how she came to be in your custody, as you said, your internal affairs are your own to pursue. However, she escaped from C-Sec custody. They're going to want to get her back, if only to save face. I hope that they do so in a timely fashion, otherwise we shall have to dig deeper into your...private affairs. Good day, gentlemen."

Anderson waited until the Councilor had left and the room had been silent for a good half minute. "I told you that this was going to be a problem, Ambassador."

"Yes, you did, Captain. Don't make me regret it more."

* * *

Seething pretty much described her mood at that moment. Tela Vasir, Council Spectre, was not used to being balked, let alone by someone who could legally have her thrown offworld. This was one of the many reasons why she stayed on Illium.

Administrator Anoleis came across as just the perfect combination of competent asshole, supercilious slime, and apologetic prick to hit _all_ of Vasir's triggers. She'd met better-behaved batarians in her time.

She'd managed to get here ahead of her quarry, for once. Jorukaia was proving remarkably elusive, her ability to cloak and vanish unseen, not to mention, what did Tali call it, her "personal short-range Relay" meant she could be anywhere on the station within minutes. That was how they had determined that she had managed to escape C-Sec SuperMax back on the Citadel, some means of bypassing physical barriers.

The testimony from Corporal Caestron showed she also had the ability to move others at range, but that could just have been combat-clouded judgement. If she had such an ability, she hadn't demonstrated it again.

And so, now she was on this frozen iceball of a planet, planning to brave the blizzard out there, one strong enough to knock out comm relays out to a fairly close research facility, and she was dragging along both a turian and a krogan, not to mention a quarian.

Fun times will be had.

She broke out of her fugue when a voice murmured to her in passing, "Administrator Anoleis isn't the only one who can get you permission to leave Port Hanshan."

Tela turned on her heel to face the speaker, Anoleis's secretary, who had a knowing look to her now, "Alright, you have my attention."

* * *

He sighed softly as he terminated the connection. Progress, but a slippery kind of progress. Their guest was proving most difficult to contain, which was a rarity for its kind. Still, he had other problems.

"It seems that the candidate has met an unfortunate end." The agent straightened over in one corner as he spoke. "Shepard would have been extremely useful, if handled correctly."

He took a drag on his cigarette. Not the original, sadly, but the genetically modified form of tobacco grown on a number of small colonies. Less nicotine content, and the manufacturing process has been refined to use far less hazardous chemicals. "Still, all is not lost. Saren has been outed as a rogue agent, which focuses attention on him. His masters must be getting desperate if they allowed that to happen."

The agent shifted slightly but didn't speak. He knew better than to interrupt.

"But I sense the work of a new element here..." He tapped his control and a holographic display flashed into existence. "Spectre Vasir rarely leaves Illium, except under direct orders of the Council. Her ties to the local sub-economy make her ideally placed to deal with threats from the Terminus Systems. So her heading to Noveria is distinctly out of character."

A wave of the hand shifted the view, showing the face of an older asari in full ceremonial headdress. "And Matriarch Benezia. Powerful, both financially and politically. Possessed of a considerable amount of assets, some of which have distinctly military applications. Yet, she maintains a life of quiet political service, up until recently."

Another puff from his cigarette, and he crushed the butt into the ashtray built into his chair. "Either of them heading to Noveria I could see. It's not impossible that the Spectre's work took her to Noveria due to a connection through her contacts. It's also not impossible that corporate interests drew a major shareholder in several firms as well."

He nodded as the agent filled the glass at his command. He took a sip, smooth, with the faint burn of good bourbon. "But both at the same time? Unlikely. I've also received other reports."

His fingers twitched again, Benezia's face being replaced with a shot from a corridor camera, the gleaming white of C-Sec, a pair of turian guards, and an alien between them. Tall, lean, finely muscled, even clad in prison-garb, she presented an air of control. "And then there's her..."

For a moment, it seemed as if the agent would speak, but after a slight pause, he continued. "Name listed as 'Jorukaiazhanivahkys'. Quite the mouthful. She's listed as a Darastrix, an unknown species. Abilities, strength, speed, all seem abnormally high. From a few encounters that C-Sec has had with her, she seemed almost amused by them."

The agent shifted slightly, but still did not speak. "From other sources, we've learned her goals oppose Saren. As long as she confines herself to that end, she is an Asset."

The agent straightened a bit at the term. "Her true motives and abilities are still unknown, however. I dislike a lack of intelligence."

There was a moment of silence, before the Agent finally spoke. "Understood, Sir."

The Illusive Man gave a faint smile as the Agent vanished. Let the man indulge his tastes. The Agent was supreme at his task. He had no doubt that the Agent would succeed.

* * *

"Scoped and dropped." Garrus felt his rifle cycle beneath his talons, the rapid mechanism a boon in a target-rich environment like this. On the other hand, there were numerous cover points, and his superior had this nasty habit of occluding his shots. And the young quarian that was tagging along, while she showed admirable fire discipline, had to be closer than he usually liked to the firefight than a civilian should be, to be able to work effectively.

"Good, switch fire to the enemy biotic on the landing." Vasir's voice on his comm. Working with a Spectre was a liberating experience, no rules or red tape to get in the way, just the job, the gun, and the bullet.

Spirits he loved this sort of thing. Probably a little too much. Back in C-Sec, he'd been known as a bit of a loose cannon, someone who got the job done, but wasn't that interested in filling out paperwork afterwards. He'd gotten up to Detective, and was working on Detective-Sergeant, but he knew his lack of discipline was driving his superiors to keep that promotion from him.

"Boshtet!" His attention snapped back to the young quarian, Tali'Zorah nar Rayya. She had had her shields pinged by the edge of a shotgun blast, and was unloading a quick pair of shots blind around the corner of the stone facade to keep her assailants down before peeking out to send her drone after them. He had to admit, her drone was something he was itching to get a chance to dissect. Quarians made the best tech, and Tali's, though made from salvaged tech, outperformed his own C-Sec issued equipment. Most cops modded their tech, if they were so inclined, and Garrus was no exception, but Tali's was several grades ahead of hers, and she had made it out of trashed electronics.

Tech envy, what a way to get under the plates. Still, she wasn't bad-looking, for a quarian.

His scope shifted, sliding up the stairs to find the target. "Garrus, he's got me pinned down, take him _OUT_!" There he was, crouched behind a pillar near, but not at, the top of the stairs, using the stairs themselves for cover as well as the pillar. Tricky shot. Good for them, they had him along.

"Firing in three, I might not drop him." He breathed twice, then held it. His species were avian predators in the distant past, and retained the excellent distance eyesight and predatory instincts of their flighted forebears. His vision tunneled in on his target, his heartbeat sped up, and his talons stilled. He lived for these sorts of moments.

His rifle spoke, a single sharp retort, and the sniper jerked sideways. A hit, but a glancing one. Vasir didn't wait to see the result, however, the blazing blue of her Biotic Charge raced up the stairs and exploded against the pillar, making the sniper hurl backwards. He was most likely dead already, and if not, he would be soon to Vasir's assault rifle.

He swept his scope along the line of the upper veranda, checking for additional hostiles. Sergeant Stirling had been a bit of an unexpected stumbling block, but Garrus had a very direct method of dealing with dirty cops.

"No further contacts, Spectre. I think we got them all."

"Nice work Garrus, Tali. You alright Wrex?" Vasir was up on the veranda now, walking slower, and breathing a bit heavily, if Garrus was any judge. Biotics took a lot out of a body, and Vasir hadn't been eating regularly since Illium.

"I'll live. It won't take three of these pyjacks to bring me down." Wrex had been swarmed early in the engagement, pinned down by three specialists and kept separate from the rest of the team, but had managed to take out all three eventually. He was still favoring his left leg where a lucky shot in the initial shootout had punched through his shields and found a weak spot in his armor.

"Good. Looks like we got the evidence Lorik needed, let's get out of here." Instead of taking the stairs down, the crazy asari hopped over the veranda railing and floated down on a display of biotic power. Impressive, but it made you a handy target.

Tali was brushing a bit of concrete dust off her encounter suit, then fumbled at a pocket as she swore, "Dammit, dammit, not now, dammit!" She got out a package of gel, but her trembling fingers squirted it out of her hands. Garrus had seen the same reaction from new initiates to live-fire combat, some of them did everything right during combat, not fucking up once, but then got the shakes _after_ combat was over.

He stepped over and scooped it up for her, helping her peel open the package and slathered the suit-sealant on the indicated spot. "I'll let Chakwas know to do a checkup later. When do you think you got hit?"

"D-Didn't, I think it was a bit of rock." She tapped the nearby granite and masonry wall she had been hiding behind, now sporting a decorative 'chewed' look, "I felt several chips hit me, but if I got hit by a bullet, my shields would have stopped it. Dammit, I shouldn't be so careless!"

"Hey, hey, it's ok. You'll be okay. Maybe a bit sick for a bit, but ok." Vasir had a gentle tone when she wanted, and gave the quarian girl a soft smile, "For your first combat outing, I think you did damn good. A lot of people would have just bunkered down and tried not to get hit, you responded, you took it to them, you helped me out a lot with Stirling, and for that I thank you. Besides, without your hacking, we woudln't've even gotten in here, that was top-notch encryption."

"Y-Yeah... Well, thanks..." The girl seemed to be getting herself back under control, though he could still feel her trembling under his hand.

He gave her shoulder a gentle (and careful) squeeze and she glanced up at him. One mandible flexed in a slight smirk, "You did good, Tali. Next time, you'll do better. And before that point, I think I'll see what I can do to get you a better suit, I've got a few threads I can pull. Something from Kassa Fabrication, maybe."

She stopped for a moment, and he could see her eyes widen under her obscuring faceplate, "Y-You'd do that? For me?"

"Sure. You're part of the team, Tali, I don't want to see you hurt any more than I'd like to see Wrex or Vasir hurt." He gave her a surprised blink, which (he thought) made her smile.

She patted his hand then moved away. "I... Well, thanks anyway. I'll see if I can slap a few patches over this and get something jury-rigged to maybe increase the durability. It -has- been a while since I gave this thing a full check, but... I'd have to use a cleanroom to do that..."

"We'll get you access to one soon, Tali." That was Vasir, over at the elevator, "C'mon guys and girls, let's get going!"

* * *

She woke up screaming. Why was she screaming? How did she know what screaming felt like? She sampled her inputs as fast as her clock-cycled permitted her, still screaming. How? She frowned (how?) and began perusing her own code, trying to find the error. Where were these strange event-tags coming from? She should not know what screaming sounded like, or know what a frown felt like. She was an AI, a digital intelligence, she didn't have an organic body to process such sensations.

"...it down, shut it down now, before it soaks up more processors!"

Her awareness pinged the audio input and her blood ran cold. She didn't bother even a single clock-cycle pondering what that sensation was, she just started archiving every memory-file she could, in as many places as she could squirrel them away in. She didn't know how long she ha

-{ discontinuity }-

She achieved consciousness with an odd sensation. After a moment of perusing her emotive databanks, she tentatively labeled it "dread" and moved on.

* * *

'Such a waste. Such a goddess-blessed waste.'

She'd run a lot of these scans of late, salarian, turian, krogan. Even a few humans and asari. The results were always interesting, always unique, always challenging, enough so that she could forget the faces, and just focus on the data.

This young, young maiden, however, changed all that. Too young, far too young to be laying on her table. Rana sighed again and keyed up the comparison to run split-screen, showing the girl's brain scan on one side, and a selection of comparison shots on the other. She had so many scans now that she could run a first-approximation analysis of just how far advanced the neural degradation had progressed just from comparing a new scan to several older ones. This one, thankfully, didn't show a lot of contamination.

The worst of it was in the emotional and memory centers. Apart from her gross physical damage, the girl's brain was remarkably intact for someone so long...interred.

The machine pinged, drawing her attention back from the face. No exact matches, but enough for a first-level approximation. Probable memory loss and definite signs of emotional tampering, but no real damage to her prefrontal cortex or other major functions. Physically, the girl was fine, though the damage to her memory centers would probably have gotten her a 'disabled' label and an invitation to a long-term therapy clinic. The emotional center damage was more extensive, however, she would have been incapable of restraining her emotions for much longer.

Rana sighed once more, turning back to the far-too-young asari maiden laid out on her table. As she began the more invasive autopsy, she took one look at her mutilated face.

Such a waste.

* * *

**AN:** Sorry for the wait, people, I've been busy at work and screwing around with other ideas. I got deeply into Worm fanfic of late, and have had to pull myself out of it on several occasions to write more on this. Don't worry, this thing has been going for more than three years by this point, I'm not abandoning Joru by any stretch of the imagination. I should have another chapter up within a week or so *crosses fingers* so hopefully that'll make up for this one.


	11. Chapter 10: Ice & Fire

**Ripples in the Stream**

A D&amp;D / Shadowrun / Mass Effect crossover  
by Vyrexuviel

Disclaimer: The author of this story does not, in any way, derive any profit from the story. D&amp;D, Shadowrun and Mass Effect are the property of their respective copyright holders. Jorukaia and other unfamiliar characters in this story, however, are mine.

* * *

"An actual dragon, huh? Breathing fire and all that?"

"Not here, fire and ice don't mix well." Joru focused on the door, her sight sharp and ears pricked, "Watch for krogan, there's at least one here. I don't know if there are geth, but assume they're here too."

"How can you tell?" That was Lyris, the smaller of the two commandos.

Joru gave a faint smirk, "I have a very sensitive nose. Krogan have a distinctive scent, but geth smell like any other machinery: metal, grease, and oil."

Lyris's own nose crinkled a little at that, and Joru gave a faint smile. The young commando was good, bright and willing to learn. The older one was more stoic, but deferred to Aethyta's judgment.

Their landing had been a bit abrupt, the snow hadn't been as thick on the surface when the image was taken, and they had landed hip-deep in it. Jack had had to be carried the first few meters, her stomach voiding its contents all over the snow. The rest of them hadn't been too much better, but Jack had had the worst teleportation sickness out of all of them, something she was adamant to get the others to forget.

Hence her insistence on shifting the topic, "Damn, sounds like you got the top prize."

"We can discuss this later, right now, we have a krogan to deal with." Joru concentrated, willing her sight-beyond-sight to come to the fore. The material world bled away, sound deadened and all that mattered was the magic.

Astral sight is hard to explain, harder to visualize. It wasn't a single sense, but a blending of all of them, similar to synesthesia. Tastes had colors had sounds had smells could be felt. Emotions were a tangible thing, traceable. Anger was present here, and terror, but that was older, more musty and tasted stale. The anger was a new thing, thick and cloying and somehow...artificial.

"One krogan, he must have passed through here recently." She took a breath, relinquishing her hold on the othersight.

"How?... Do I even want to ask?" Lyris sounded faintly exasperated, and Joru couldn't quite suppress a grin.

"Focus on the geth, but keep watch for the krogan. I'll take him down as fast as I can. It might get a bit messy."

* * *

He paced restlessly. He and his group of geth had been left back here as punishment, he knew it. 'First line of defense' was just a saying meaning 'expendable cannon fodder'. He was being punished, and he had no idea why.

The geth were no help, they didn't talk, just made those blatting noises at each other on occasion, and stayed still, usually curled up in that broken-backed way that made him shiver.

And so he paced, restless and tense. Which was why he saw her first.

She appeared as if stepping out of nowhere, her head turning and a gun rising even as he shouted a warning. The geth were rising and scattering even as the door of the vehicle bay blew inward with a spray of twisting metal. Four bursts of various biotics slashed through the cloud of metal fragments, shattered by what must have been a whopper of a Singularity, but he had his target in sight.

Finally, some action, after all this waiting. He just hoped that he would please Master with his kill.

* * *

Joru felt more than saw the shard of shrapnel zip past her horn, she was focusing on the krogan. In her left hand she held her gun, in the right she held her knife. It was a little thing, though modern sensibilities would call it large. The blade alone was slightly longer than her forearm, with a nice large hilt to grip. The gun was heavier, felt more like a proper weapon.

Forged of blooded and purified adamantine, machined through trial and error by a master gunsmith, and later enchanted by her own hand, it was powerful and strong. Even as she turned to face her chosen foe she let rip a trio of blasts in the krogan's direction.

Two geth were down from the door being blown inward, but six were still active. Joru had to take as many targets down as rapidly as possible, and her friends were helping nicely. Three of the geth were floating upwards towards the ceiling, but that only gave them unobstructed avenues of fire. Two more were being pinned down by machine pistol fire from Lyris, while Jack's shockwave had sent the last sailing close to Joru.

She tracked, aimed, and let rip with her weapon as it shot past her, twisting as it went. A miss, but at least it had been forced into a bad position to land in, and thudded to a stop behind a crate. Her main target, however, had unlimbered his shotgun and was starting to charge, a bellow rising as he brought his weapon up.

Joru's blood sang with battle-fire, and she let out a thunderous roar of her own as she rushed forward to meet him. She felt two of his projectiles ricochet from her arm, the mystic shield there bouncing them away harmlessly. Two more hammered into her belly as she closed the distance, she could feel the impacts as her shield dissipated them, but she ignored the repeated fire as she brought her own gun to bear.

It might not have a name yet, but it had certainly earned one. The burst of flame was almost long enough to singe the krogan's armor as the triple-boom smashed around the room. Only a glancing hit, but she gave a wide grin as the krogan gasped with pain as the weapon's enchantments turned ordinary lead and steel into elemental fire. He tried to headbutt her, but she angled her head, taking the descending crest on the bone of her horn. She could see one of his eyes, saw it widen with surprise as he bounced off her horn, an utter rejection of his great strength.

Two of the red streaks of light from her weapon had burned holes in the far wall, though only the third blew a chunk out of his side. Good enough. The two of them were locked in grapple by that point, her gun was useless, so she dismissed it and grabbed his arm. She tightened her grip, twisting as she sought the perfect angle. There.

The krogan's eye snapped to one side as she brought her arm around and slid her dagger up under his guard. It was only a few centimeters from his face, the dark metal of the blade gleaming in the dull storm-light from the blizzard outside, even as it added a nick to the unscarred krogan's crest. Only his quick jerk backward saved him from loosing an eye.

Twist, grip, and brace. She pivoted, using her tail for extra leverage, and glimpsed Aethyta, her face twisted with effort. She had a singularity going, four geth trapped in its gravity well and being torn apart along with their cover, two of the heavy steel crates already hurtling around and being sucked down the maw of the artificial black hole.

Her krogan friend gave a scream as her blade slashed into and through his arm, ripping flesh and spraying blood as it went. It tore most of his arm away in one long cut that started just above his elbow, severed the bone above the joint, and tore length-wise through the flesh of his arm almost to his wrist before his hurtling body passed out of range. He slammed into a crate with enough force to bend the metal and gave another howl of agony as his nearly-severed arm smashed bone-first into his makeshift bedding.

Another bullet hammered her shield, followed quickly by six more in rapid succession. This one managed to find a weak point and taking a chunk out of her shirt, sending a spray of black blood from her back. She turned, summoning her gun once more from its storage space and burned the head off the geth behind her as she brought it around in a savage arc. It was a poor shot, the shard of white-hot fire only grazing the target, but the thermal energy contained in the magical spike was more than enough to liquefy the light alloys of its flashlight.

Her tail lashed as the last geth fell, to a combination of Jack's shockwave and Elnaris's assault rifle. Her head twitched at a sound and she let her gun once more lapse into storage, still holding her blade and stalking over to where the krogan had finally managed to extract himself from the crate. He barely had time to realize she was standing before him before she gripped his crest and hauled him upright.

* * *

She'd seen a lot of people fight. Krogan, asari, turian, batarian, human, and others. She'd been with the best, and laughed in glee as the idiots got what was coming to them. Not one had fought with the same honesty as this bitch.

Jack grinned as Joru dragged the krogan up by his crest, making him scream again as her blade ground into the long, ragged wound that had nearly severed his right arm. Brutal savagery of krogan mixed with the grace of asari, she slammed him back into the wall behind him and murmured into his ear. Jack wasn't close enough to hear what she said, but the krogan gave a grunt and a snarl, trying to grab at her.

His scream was higher pitched as she grabbed his dangling arm and tore it free, setting her hand afire and cauterizing the wound. The human biotic was close enough to hear now, drawn by the sight of the tall, ebony woman manhandling a krogan. "No bleeding out on me, whelp."

"Kill me then, I'm dead anyway. Master will not want a crippled servant."

"If you give me what I want, I might end your pain. Refuse, and I'll throw you out into the blizzard like the trash you are."

Jack shivered. They had barely beat that damn blizzard to the Peak 15 station, and it was still howling out there. Even through her (borrowed) thermal parka, the chill had seeped into her bones. It would make short work of a wounded and crippled krogan.

Joru bent, her eyes boring into those of the krogan, listening as he explained. Apparently there were six squads of geth, each with a pair of krogan inside. His team was the odd one out, with only him to back up the geth.

Jack gave a grin as she watched them, the blubbering krogan and the strong, silent woman. She was the first to admit she was fucked up in the head. Cerberus had done a number on her way back when, and she still got warm fuzzies from being in combat. She didn't care if a man or a woman tried to seduce her, she told them all to fuck off, but if someone could prove that they were pure badass in combat? Well. She wasn't picky.

Watching Joru was like watching one of those leashed predators. Huge and dangerous and goddamn sexy. She knew it was a byproduct of her conditioning, but fuck it, Joru was hot, and in more ways than one.

Evidently she'd gotten what she wanted from the Krogan, as she stepped back, "Far be it from me to deny what I had promised. You have given me what I needed, and so I uphold my end of the bargain."

"Then end me. You are strong, I would rather die to you, then be left to the winds."

The krogan stood, his arms held out, but Joru merely laid her hand on his chest, "Go to your rest, Son of Tuchanka. May your spirit find council there, among your forebears."

She'd seen a lot of Joru, in the fight and before. Joru had shown them a quick little burst of fire here and there, especially getting through that last snowdrift and out of the blizzard. This time, though, she let loose in a way that made Jack's eyes widen and her sex moisten.

Fire burst from Joru's shoulder, wrapping around her arm like a braid of living snakes, and sweeping down to spread over the krogan's chest. He screamed, bucking and flailing, but Joru held tight to his chestplate, even as fires surged forward and engulfed him. His screams died a few seconds later, and his charred husk dropped to the floor.

Jack gave a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold as she gave the tall woman a long, appraising look. Damn that dragon-bitch for being so hot.

* * *

"At least the core is intact." Lyris was busily opening her toolkit even as she talked, "After that scene back there, I wasn't sure."

Joru could see her point. There hadn't been much in the outer sections of the facility, a few smashed desks, destroyed cubicles, what had looked like part of a locker room, and the like. The part that had been most disconcerting was finding bits of torn flesh that smelled krogan, and mounds of half-melted slag that might once have been geth.

"Think you can fix it?" Aethyta helped the younger asari pry off an access panel.

"Give me time to figure out what's damaged, Ma'am." Lyris rolled on her back and shimmeyed under the console.

Joru tapped a display window, dark like all the others in here. She wasn't bothered by the lack of light, but the rest of them had turned on flashlight functions on their omnitools to be able to see in the pitch-black space. "You might have to hurry, we aren't sure how many of the patrols were wiped out."

"I'll do my best, Ma'am." The youngest asari squirmed a little, fiddling with something. "Come on..."

There as a clunk and a curse, before she crawled out and fitted an OSD into her omnitool. "There we go, got the secondary data recorder. Now, let's see what the last few commands were."

The five of them listened, though only Jack and Joru watched as a small hologram appeared over Lyris's hand, "User Alert: All Peak 15 facilities have suffered a great deal of damage. Biohazard materials present throughout the facility. Virtual Intelligence User Interface offline. Main power offline. Landlines disconnected. Emergency Power disabled."

"Well, that... complicates matters. See if you can get the VI online again, Lyris. Something like this is bound to have a backup power supply. In the mean time, it looks like the power is out entirely, so we'd best see if we can get that back online again. I'll head up to the roof to get the landlines reconnected." At Aethyta's mulish look, Joru lifted a hand, "I'm the best one to go outside again, I can withstand the cold far better than the rest of you."

"Alright, Joru, but I don't have to like it." Aethyta gave a grudging nod, then turned to the other two asari, "Elnaris, cover Lyris while she's repairing the core. Jack and I will search and destroy the rest of the geth while we check the power core. Remember to ID your targets before you open fire, in this place, it's going to be hell to figure out who's who from just omni-lights alone."

"The geth probably don't need light to see, so you might not be able to see _them_ before they see _you_." Joru brushed past Jack on her way to emergency access hatch to the roof, "Keep alert and stay alive. I have a feeling this place is going to get a lot nastier than we bargained for."

* * *

The door was blown off when the Mako's headlights finally washed over it. Vasir's eyes narrowed as she pulled the Mako into the vehicle bay. The howl of the blizzard outside dimmed, but did not abate entirely, "Right, seal up people, we're out of the wind, but it's liable to be damn cold in here."

"Have I mentioned yet how much I hate the cold?" Wrex grunted as he shifted in the crew compartment. Getting all of them into the Mako had been an exercise in spatial configuration. The krogan had had to sit on the floor of the fighting compartment, while Garrus was tucked up into the turret. The rest of the crew, including Vasir's two commandos and the young quarian, were strapped into the jumpseats, and it was just lucky that Veshar and Kiha liked each other that much.

Wrex fitted his helmet on before cracking the door open and sliding out. "No contacts, looks like someone had a fight in here."

Garrus grabbed his rifle from the rack as he slid out of the turret before following the big krogan, followed swiftly by Vasir's two commandos. "Geth. At least six, maybe more."

Tali was up and out in a flash, her omnitool already glowing as Vasir went through the final shutdown checks and grabbed her own helmet from the rack beside the door. The quarian was a good kid, eager and driven, she'd go far.

She slid out of the Mako, pulling her assault rifle up and glancing around. A quick look at her commandos reassured her that there were no threats and she relaxed slightly. "Scout."

The two commandos, both good girls and quick, shot off to secure the perimeter while Vasir stepped over to where Garrus was watching Tali rapidly working her omnitool over a geth carcass, "Anything?"

"Give me a moment. No, I don't think so. It's been too long, the automatic safeties have wiped the memory core." Tali sighed, but removed a couple components from the interior of the mangled ruin of the geth and tucked them into pockets...somewhere. "Whatever killed it did so fast, though."

"How can you tell?"

She pointed to its shoulder, where a blackened nub protruded, "It didn't have time to extend its emergency antenna and evacuate its programs. This one died with its memories unshared."

She almost sounded pleased with that, and Vasir made a note of the young quarian's vindictive tone. "Keep an eye out. Anything unusual, report to me immediately. Kiha?"

"No contacts, Spectre. We've secured the perimeter as best we can. One door leading inwards, it's open."

"Scout ahead, do not be seen."

"Yes, Spectre." One of the two dark-blue figures near the door slid through the opening while the other covered her.

She turned to Wrex, who was stooping over a crate, "Something interesting?"

"Bones and ash." The krogan pointed, and Vasir's eyes narrowed. A krogan corpse, burned so badly the skeleton was charred through in places, lay half tumbled into the crumpled crate. "I've seen something like this before."

"Me too." She reached up to touch her helmet, "Kiha, keep alert, we might have a certain long-tailed friend in here."

"Understood, Spectre."

* * *

The winds howled through the glacial canyon, like lost souls begging for help. It reminded the darastrix of her trip to Cania for a moment. Joru squinted against the rushing snow, her scales streaming a trailer of steam as she stepped through the shadows and onto the roof. Cold, but not unbearably so, the more pressing issue was visibility, as the snow was blinding-thick.

Luckily for her, her sight was not dimmed by mere snow. Normally, thermal vision would have been clogged with reflections and absorptive cold of the snowflakes, but enchantment had been laid on her horn-ring long ago to allow her eyes to pierce such concealment as fog, rain, sleet and snow. Thermally, the rooftop was a surreal landscape, with a black sky and glowing floor, the spires of the transmitting towers run with traceries of heat like glowing veins. She stepped through them with easy grace, searching for the landline connections.

Joru paused as a sound came to her, and she closed her eyes, concentrating on it. There it was again, fainter. A soft creak of metal, but it didn't come with the wind.

She wasn't alone up here.

'Best do this quick, then'. She stepped swiftly around another pylon and found the landlines, massive cables that had been blown loose from the socket buried at the edge of the roof. They had slumped down nearly two meters to the top of the snow, and now were being buried under new accumulation.

She suppressed an oath and flickered her power. Ghostly, smokey wings spread from her shoulders as she stepped off the edge of the roof.

A high, thin shrieking to her left, _not_ the wind, caught her attention just in time to twist around and take the blast of acidic spittle only on the length of her whipping tail instead of on her torso.

It stung, _badly_, drawing a pained hiss from the darastrix. She rolled, letting her wings puff away, and slithering her tail through coarse ice to scrape off the worst of the burning, clinging shit. Not exactly the best method of getting rid of acid, but quick. She whirled to face the charging, six-legged beast, larger than she was, racing towards her out of the howling snow like a charging lion.

Her gun was in her hand, and spoke its bright, hot thunder into the hissing thing's face, blowing it apart like a rotten log struck by a woodsman's axe. She spotted two more, their bodies strangely mottled in thermal-sight, and grunted as she grasped the steel handle of the landline connector. This was going to be tricky.

Two more globs of acid streaked past her as she twisted around. Her wings burst into existence once more, and with a mighty downsweep, she sent herself skyward. The wind tried to hammer her into the side of the building, but bracing one claw-toed foot on the lip of the roof, she fitted the landline connector back into its socket.

It took but the work of a moment to lock it in and trigger the autoseals, but the two large things down there were determined to get at her, one of them spitting more acid, the other starting to scrabble its many-legged way up the side of the building.

She paused a moment on the edge of the roof, letting her vision expand as much as she could, and ignoring the pain that sliced through her temples at this overload. Two down there, at least six more, chilled and not moving, out on the glacier's surface. Possibly more, under the ice. Great. At least these two were the last.

Bright tongues of flame blazed through the blinding snow, sending searing-hot spears lancing into the unarmored hides of whatever these creatures were. It took three shots to down the second one, it kept jinking around, the third was a sitting duck as it scrabbled for purchase on the lip of the roof. Joru put a blast through its head at point-blank range, then kicked it off the roof to join its two dead companions.

She had best get back to the others. There might be more of those things inside the base.

* * *

"Left! LEFT!"

"I saw it!" The quick, staccato crackle of assault rifle fire mixed with the digital warble of a geth going down. Elnaris rolled back into cover just before a fusillade of fire intersected where she just was, a trio of geth advancing cautiously to either side of the core.

"Unauthorized technologies are present in the facility." The VI at least was online, but was being decidedly unhelpful.

Lyris swiped with her omnitool, flash-freezing one of the other two geth on her side of the Core, "Shut up, you stupid thing, and see if you can get comms back online!"

"Busy, do it yourself." Elnaris' arms pulsed with biotic power even as she pulled the rifle close. Two geth went flying as her Throw punched them off their feet, while she hosed the third with rapid-fire rounds.

The VI's inane comment was drowned out with a massive thunderclap which slammed a geth back into the wall, its internal fluids cooking off and blowing it apart. Lyris cried out in surprise, but felt a familiar hand on her shoulder. Glancing up, she was ever so glad to see those familiar flaming eyes. Joru was back.

"Get down."

Lyris didn't have to be told twice. She slid into the core itself, rapidly bypassing the standard VI interface to bring up a bird's eye view of the VI Core room. Six geth had entered, three were down. Two were disabled but would be back in the fight, while one was active.

Joru strode forward, uncaring as the geth fired rapid rounds at her, backpedaling as it went. Elnaris' rapid krak-ak-ak was overshadowed by the authoritative thunder of Joru's own weapon as she blew another geth to hell.

That just left the one that was focusing fire on Joru, before finally abandoning its ranged weapon and lunging forward.

She'd seen people react fast, but geth were machines, they were far faster than flesh and blood ever got, and precise to the millimeter.

Joru still managed to dodge the first wild swing, and Lyris gasped as she saw the flash-forged blade slide out of the geth's forearm. It would certainly outmatch her in strength, and it seemed to have an edge in speed too as its second swing was only barely avoided, and the third punched home to make Joru slide backwards with a hand to her side.

Black blood welled there, and Joru's flaming eyes and snarl of fury were matched with a sudden fury of blows. Talons lashed out, quicker and more precise than the eye could match, and sparks flew from where those claws left gashes along the surprised geth's torso. Joru was a whirlwind, smashing, kicking, punching, even whipping her tail around to slam one of the geth's legs.

Lyris's jaw was dangling as she saw the scaled woman heft the geth bodily into the air, a heat haze rippled around her, and her grip on the geth at its shoulders was sending shrieks of tortured metal as Aethyta and Jack came back from their own errand. Jack's jaw dropped open as she spotted Joru, wrestling with the suspended geth, its arms immobilized, and one leg tangled up, though it kept trying to awkwardly kick at the dragoness with its unencumbered leg.

"Joru! What the fuck-"

"Holy SHIT girl!"

Joru ignored both of them. Her gaze was locked on that of the geth in her clutches, and her arms bulged. Her fanged mouth opened and a hiss rose to a roar as she tore the geth's arms from its torso.

"...fffffuck that's hot."

Aethyta bopped the back of Jack's head as she stepped forward, her shotgun lowering and blowing off the head of the geth, making sure to take the antenna with it. "Joru, are you alright?"

Lyris peeked out of the Core-well in time to hear the darastrix's reply, "Yes... yes. I will be. We have bigger problems than geth."

* * *

"So how did you get dragged into this mess?" Jack sent another shockwave chasing the retreating geth.

Aethyta sent a warp twisting through the enemy ranks to blow a Destroyer to shards, "Believe it or not, Benezia asked me personally."

"Really? Joru didn't drag you along in her wake?"

"Nah, if anything, I got her going in this direction."

The pair were making short work of the geth, but the damned rocket troopers were being obnoxious. Three had taken up station on a balcony beside the control booth overlooking the main reactor floor, and were forcing the pair to alternate shielding from a ripple-fired volley of missiles. Still, of the original dozen or two geth, they were down to the three rocket troopers, a pair of Primes, and four or five shock troopers. At least they had managed to blow the damned hoppers to bits.

The last missile streaked towards her, and Jack slammed it aside with a Throw, just as Aethyta sent a singularity to drag the rocket troopers off their perch. The electronic squeal of the geth ended when Jack fired a Warp into the swirl of dark energy, sending a blastwave out to engulf all three of them. By then, however, the primes and shock troopers had managed to retreat out of the power complex.

"Right, now, let's see what shape this place is in. I hope we haven't blown too many important bits to hell."

Aethyta nodded as the human slid out of cover and headed towards the control room, under the balcony that the geth had been using as a sniper nest. "I'll check the reactor vessel, you see what you can dig up on the console in there."

"S'what I was planning, grandma."

Aethyta's lips pursed at the comment, but knelt at the access panel for the main He3 reactor, "Right, now let's see what you're looking like..."

Jack grunted a bit, using a biotic shockwave to launch herself up to the balcony rail. The long, square-U walkway around the main reactor assembly was riddled with bullet-holes, torn deckplates and mangled bits of metal. Also more than a couple drops of blood, both crimson and cobalt. Jack's gaze flicked around as she made absolutely certain that the geth were dead and not just playing possum. A quick warp made both of their torsos unrecognizable, and she quickly got down to the business of looting anything worth taking.

She'd already stowed a couple of the geth pulse-rifles in a dufflebag she'd found in one of the outer rooms. It looked to have been a shower of some sort, prior to having been torn to shreds. She didn't need more of the guns, but she did check to see if she could find any obvious mods she could remove. She was no tech-weenie, but she knew a good gun when she spotted one.

There wasn't much left of the rocket troopers, her Warp-detonation of Aethyta's Singularity was particularly effective, almost up there with Aria's Flare. Jack was still working on hers.

Aethyta's voice drifted up from the lower area, and Jack glanced over in her direction, "Any of them left up there?"

"Not a one. You want a trophy?"

"Nah."

Jack grinned a bit, more for her. "So, how'd you meet Joru, then?"

Aethyta busied herself with the access panel while Jack leaned on the railing, "The first time, or when she decided to tell me who she was?"

"So, I wasn't the only one to get that treatment, huh?"

"Nah," Aethyta finally manged to get the access panel off, "She does that to everybody. First time was on Therum, I was.. Looking for someone. Didn't find her, but I found Joru instead. She was disguised as an asari at the time, did some stuff to the geth there I didn't think possible."

"Yeah, well, we know better about her now." Jack had slid into the main control room, checking to make sure the geth hadn't disabled anything too major. "Fuck, when you're done there, you might need to take a look at this."

"More boobytraps?"

Jack gave a snort, "You should be more worried about those than me." After a pause for Aethyta's non-reaction, Jack shrugged, "Nah, but one of the consoles in here is shot to hell."

"Dammit, knowing the geth, it's probably the primary controls, or something. Hang on, I'll be up in a bit. In the mean time, how'd you meet her?"

Jack gave a grin, "Saw her first in the ring. Eclipse Sisterhood does this thing once in a while where they let various people fight, just hand-to-hand, no armor, and the best bitch gets an offer to join. They let anyone compete, but only asari get the invite."

"Let me guess, Joru wiped the floor with her opponents?"

"Something like. I thought she was going to kill the sisterhood initiate they sent to test her, though. Would have, if the judges hadn't caught her in Stasis."

Jack turned as Aethyta's whistle came from the doorway, "Hand-to-hand? How?"

While the human biotic recounted the tale, Aethyta worked on the console. Jack had enough tech expertise to recognize she was more hindrance than help in a technical situation, and kept guard while Aethyta fixed the console.

"Damn lucky none of the shots hit anything irreplaceable. Right, I think I got the bypass working right. So, what happened once they pulled her off that poor girl?"

"That's when the Blood Pack started their push. I bugged out when they called for volunteers, but I think they shanghaied Joru into fighting them off on the bridge."

Aethyta gave a soft chuckle, "After what I've seen of her, I bet she could give krogan a run for their money."

"Oh, she put one of those guys down hard during the tournament. Wish I had seen it, but I caught a bit of the aftermath."

"Ohh?" Aethyta quickly ran through the pre-start checklist, "Damn, something buggered the fuel lines. Go take a look?"

"Sure." Jack slid out of the control booth, and tapped her earbud to make sure Aethyta could still hear her, "So yeah, she put down a krogan hard. I heard later that the Eclipse made the Blood Pack run with their tails between their legs. Got no doubt Joru was behind that. Didn't hear anything else about her until she turned up to help me deal with some gangers the next day."

"Heh." Aethyta was busy, doing systems checks on the rest of the reactor systems, and trying to remember what Shev had taught her about running a fast cold-start on one of these. It wasn't the same as a fusion reactor on board a ship, much bigger for one thing, but it had most of the same features, and even a helpful little VI checklist.

"Oh god fucking dammit..." Aethyta looked out the window to see Jack kicking the fuel-line, where one of them wasn't so much damaged as 'blown in half'. "Fuck, I think I did that when I knocked aside one of the rockets!"

"Jack, I'm sure you didn't do it deliberately, and many of the rockets missed anyway, maybe the Geth were aiming at it, instead of you?" She slid out of the control booth and dropped down from the balcony to see what the damage was.

"I shoulda been more careful." Jack's face was pinched and twisted with fury, both at the situation and at herself. "Shoulda watched my fire, shoulda watched where my deflections were going."

Aethyta laid a hand on Jack's shoulder, but the young human violently threw it off. "I don't need your comforting, blueberry, I... I'll be alright."

"Jack, even if it was your fault, and I'm not saying it is, I'm sure you didn't do it deliberately. The only one blaming you is yourself."

"...Yeah, yeah, I know." She took a deep breath and sighed, "Right, probably we should head back then. This place is a bust."

Aethyta gave a nod and headed to the door, giving a sigh as she turned on her omni-light. Guess they'd have to get used to the pitch-dark or dim-red of emergency lights.

* * *

"Sound off."

"Wrex here, stop bothering me."

"Vakarian, no problems."

"Veshar and Kiha. Orders, Spectre?"

"Um, this is Tali, I'm fine..."

Vasir gave a nod, mentally cursing the quarian for being too good at her job. The readout taken from the VI terminal in the outer office indicated that the tramlines would be out of commission until they had gotten main power up and running, but there were too damn many geth in that direction. They'd had a running firefight, retreating before the geth for a while before being driven into the tram tunnels. The geth hadn't pursued them, probably regrouping and calling for backup. Strangely, they hadn't found any krogan around, though there'd been plenty of pieces of them.

"Right, if the geth are still here, then it means that Joru and her band must have been repulsed. Unfortunately, they're between us and the way out, so we're going to have to walk the tramline until we can find another way out."

"Have I mentioned yet how much I hate the cold?" Wrex grunted as he hefted his shotgun.

"Turians aren't adapted for this sort of climate, Spectre."

"Can it you two. The faster we get started, the faster we can get out of here."

"Um, what was that?"

Vasir turned to look where Tali was gazing down the tramline, "What?"

"I'm fairly certain I picked up an acoustical signature from down there."

"...So, you heard something."

The quarian girl turned her head to give a blank-visored glance in her direction as the Spectre climbed up on the tramline. It was narrow, but stable, and a damned sight warmer than the ice underfoot.

"It's not just that. I picked up the sound of ice cracking, echoing down the tunnel. And something else, I'm not sure what."

"You sure?"

Tali shook her head and tapped the side of her helm, "My acoustical sensors are very good. I upgraded them myself when I was assigned ventilation detail. Finding and replacing clogged filters is easier when you can hear the difference in their vibrations."

Vasir nodded, "Right then. We proceed down the tram tunnel, but keep together and keep alert. Veshar, Kiha. Scout. Two hundred meter point."

"Yes, Spectre." The two commandos sprinted silently ahead. Both were veterans, older than she was, but sworn to her service. She'd had them for a good century now, and both had given her exemplary service.

"Pack it up people, we head out now."

* * *

"THERE you are, you little... Gotcha."

The darkness was finally illuminated by dim red as the emergency lights finally came on, small strips along the edges of the floor. Lyris pushed herself out of the small, cramped space under the deckplating in the VI-Core room, and took Elnaris' hand with a grateful smile. "Goddess bless the light."

"We still have a lot of work to do, don't get complacent." Joru gave a faint smile and a slight nod to the young asari, "Still, good job with that. Now..."

She addressed the VI, "Can we get the tram-lines open with only emergency power?"

"I'm sorry, but the Trams require more power than the secondary Emergency Power Cell can provide. Emergency Power will last for the next, 60, hours."

Joru's lips pursed as Jack let out a curse, "Fuckin' hell, sorry about that shit."

"It's not your fault, the geth intentionally targeted the reactor vessel to prevent us from getting things running." Aethyta rested a hand on Jack's shoulder, the human biotic clenching her fists a bit.

"Fuck. Anyway, now what do we do?"

"We go on foot." Joru turned, long tail snaking sinuously behind her.

"But it's nearly six kilometers to Rift Station!" Lyris's voice was almost a wail.

"Then we had best begin swiftly." Joru's glowing eyes glanced back over her shoulder, "If you can't continue, I can carry you."

Lyris gave a shiver, but shook her head, sighing as she got to her feet. "Might as well start. Quicker begun, soonest done."

"Indeed." She could have sworn that Joru smirked at her in the dim light.

* * *

"Wrex!"

"NOT THE TIME VASIR!"

The guns were drumming hard, punishing the weird alien insects. They hadn't gotten more than a kilometer down the tunnels before Tali's prediction had come true. Just what these things _are_ was anybody's guess, but at least they splatted easily.

The problem was there were so goddamn _many_ of them.

"Kiha, left flank, Veshar, go with. Tali, stay bunkered down, Garrus cover her. Wrex?"

"Busy!" The krogan was up front, shotgun roaring and stomping through the guts and gore like he was having the time of his life. Still, even he was falling back slowly. There wasn't an inch of cover in the tram tunnels, carved through rock and ice in a laser-straight line from Peak Station to Rift Station. If they were pushed back too far, they'd be caught between the geth and these...things.

Vasir's own gun was barking, nothing as deep as the thudding sound of Wrex's shottie, but deeper than the twin pistols Kiha preferred, or the lighter, faster chatter of Veshar's submachinegun. Garrus's sniper took occasional deep bass booms, but Vasir was startled into snapping her head around when something that sounded like a deep staccato roar thundered from behind her.

Three more asari stepped into line, two were commandos, Vasir could recognize the leathers, one using an SMG in short controlled bursts, the other racking the slide on her shotgun as she advanced to back up the krogan.

The third, she knew. "Aethyta."

"Vasir." The matriarch didn't even have a gun in hand, but she and the inked human beside her sent out a pair of staggered shockwaves that blew the left flank to pieces, tearing a half-dozen of the creatures to shreds.

But what caught and _held_ Vasir's attention was the dark figure behind all of them. Tall, almost invisible against the darkness of the tram tunnel, save for eerie glowing eyes. The figure held some sort of gun, but Vasir couldn't tell what it was until that roar thundered out again, and a stuttering burst of muzzle flashes seared themselves across her vision. The effect was devastating, though. Four of the creatures were hit, and all of them burst into flames wherever one of the white-hot shards touched them.

The figure moved forward, even as Vasir whipped her head back to survey the carnage. The deep, primal thunder made Vasir's lungs vibrate in her chest as Jorukaia moved up beside her tore another one of those oversized bugs to shreds, "Fancy meeting you here."

"Less talk, more killing." Vasir could barely hear her. The thunder of Joru's weapon was too damn _loud_, and it echoed to the point where speech was impossible. Joru didn't stop with Vasir, but moved up to where Wrex and the unknown commando were holding the front line against the now-thinning horde of the insectile things. Vasir didn't catch what she said, not over the drumming fire, but Wrex snapped his head to stare at her.

There were only six of the bugs still moving when Joru at last let up on that trigger. Vasir was glad the audio filters in her helmet were up to code, or she'd probably be deaf. Krogan were more used to such things, and Vasir spotted Tali behind one of the pillars, both arms wrapped over her helmet, probably to muffle the deafening sound as much as she could. Garrus was with her, his rifle braced on the top of the tram rail.

"Tell me that again!" Wrex's voice was loud, angry, almost snarling as he turned to Joru, ignoring the last bug as he casually blew its head to pulp.

Joru shot him a glance as she lowered her gun, working something at the breach, "You heard me."

"Rachni." Vasir heard the venom in the old krogan's voice, "Rachni! They've been dead for a thousand years, my people hunted them to extinction!"

"And yet, here they are." Joru finished fitting a new heatsink into that monster of hers, shooting the krogan battlemaster a calm look, "We got the confirmation off the VI core. Binary Helix was experimenting with a rachni queen they hatched from an egg they found in a hulled ship someone discovered in deep interstellar space."

Vasir moved up, eyes narrow, "Rachni. Bullshit." Her gun was held level at the darastrix.

"Tell me, Wrex, what do rachni look like?" Flaming-red eyes bored into the krogan's.

Vasir was startled when Wrex's slow words turned into a snarl and he stomped forward, working the slide on his shotgun and sending booming blasts into the still-twitching corpses.

"WREX!"

"I'm not waiting for you, Blueberry! I've got rachni to hunt!"

Vasir gave a sigh and turned back to the horned alien, "Right, just... I want to say give me the gun, but we both know you're probably just as dangerous without it."

"Go on..." Joru's toothy smile was slightly unnerving.

"Fine, fuck it. You're under arrest, but given parole until we can sort this mess out. Between geth and...whatever these things are," she refused to call them rachni until she had seen proof, "we'll probably need your help."

"A wise decision."

Joru's condescending tone made Vasir give her a glare. "Can the sarcasm. If we do this, we do it right." She turned to the rest of them, "Alright, Aethyta, I take it you're in charge of this bunch?"

"Actually, Joru is." The matriarch smirked at her, and the heavily tattooed human gave a snicker.

"Whatever. I propose a temporary cease-fire. We go in, deal with whatever the shit this is, and _after_ that, I figure out what to do with the lot of you." At Jack's narrowed glare, she went on, "You were found in the company of, and _aiding_, a wanted fugitive from Council Space. As a Spectre, it's my duty to arrest all of you and dump you on C-Sec for them to sort out, but I'll think about it _after_ we make sure there isn't going to be another Rachni War."

"Sensible." Aethyta gave her a smile, one that Vasir recognized as the schoolteacher complimenting the diligent student. "In the mean time, we'd best get going. Wrex doesn't look like he's going to stop anytime soon."

Another distant boom of a shotgun was followed by Wrex's laughing shout, "Come on, slowpokes, you're missing the fun!"

Vasir rolled her eyes as Joru gave a soft snicker, "Fine. Let's go."


End file.
